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BURRILL COLEMAN, 

COLORED. 


A 

TALE OF THE COTTON FIELDS. 



JEANNETTE DOWNES COETHARP. 



The Editor Publishing Company. 

COPYRIGHT. 

1896. 










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DEDICATED 




TO 


MY HUSBAND. 


CHAPTER L 


It is a queer sight to see one of the Anchor Line’s 
immense steamboats landed at a little platform entire- 
ly surrounded by water, and unloading freight as seri- 
ously as if the stage-plank rested upon solid rock. 

There is something ludicrous in the comparison of 
the stately vessel with its gleaming white frame tower- 
ing high above, and the frail rough plank and rougher 
trestle-work of the place whereon the freight must be 
deposited. The line of levee a few hundred yards fur- 
ther inward looks more fitted to the purpose, even 
though it rises only a few inches above the water’s 
bosom, but great steamboats, heavily laden, cannot 
wade through five feet of water, and if they could 
there would be vehement opposition raised by the in- 
habitants on the other side of the enbankment, whose 
houses scarcely peep above the levee’s crest. 

On the opposite side of the platform from the pulsing 
steamer with its hurrying deck-hands and commanding 
mate, a skiff, a bateau and a flat are tied, giving the 
little wooden island an air of business importance both 
cheery and interesting. A small warehouse built of 
rough lumber stands to the north, its interior given up 
to the tawny waters that fill it almost to the tops of 
its doors, and lap with soothing monotony against its 
outer walls as the motion of the boat tosses the waves 
restlessly about. A long thicket of young willows and 
cottonwoods stretch to the right and to the left, mark- 
ing by its abrupt discontinuance the point where the 
bank and river meet. ’Way over on the Mississippi 
shore, showing like a murky finger-mark on the horizon, 
the trees part the blue-grey of the heavens and the 


6 


grey-blue of the reflecting water, dispelling the illusion 
that all is one illimitable element. 

Across the levee from the landing, the southern land, 
with its level far-reaching acres, lies frank and open 
as a maiden’s brow. Has our country no secrets to 
conceal, no thoughts to hide from the world’s gaze, that 
it spreads like a smoothed-out scroll, open to the read- 
ing of any whose gaze may rest upon it, indifferent to 
his scrutiny? Not a hill nor a cliff, neither mountain 
nor ravine confronts the stranger, to hint of heart 
throbs and chastisements that left deep furrows to pro- 
claim a past or suggest tales of experience that might 
enchain a listener long and unwearingly. Declaring 
candor by her youthful mein, who could accuse her. of 
harkening to the subtle river’s wooing, and meeting 
his advances with eager arms ? Does she feel revenge- 
ful toward that arch plotter, man, and greet her lover 
all the more fondly for the barrier his love of gold has 
raised to keep her from her lord, who long ago had un- 
disputed right to her caresses at his majestic will ? 
Who could guess what a passionate, courageous nature 
underlies so much seeming tranquility, as she basks in 
the most golden of sunlight beneath the bluest of all 
skies? Is she really nothing more than the child she 
looks, with her smooth rosy cheek, that she sings and 
laughs so innocently today, and weeps so pathetically 
tomorrow? Dealing absolute justice now, and raging 
vindictively anon, while through it all, we, her dolls, 
love her as yearningly, as fervently as her generosity 
and tenderness merit. Ambition or restlessness may 
lead us, her children, far away from her dark soil and 
vivid vegetation, but one by one we drift back again, 
homesick and weary, to the welcome that is ever here — 
more loyal, more trustful, than ever before. We fold 
our tents and boastfully go, but as surely as nature’s 
grandest artery glides forever by to meet the waters of 


/ 


7 


the gulf, we come again humbled by our folly, acknowl- 
edging that potent charm which is a tradition with us, 
yet one which no one has yet been able to analyze. 
By and by, perhaps, we may cease to defy the bond 
that holds us, and with folded wings avow what we 
can but know, that this is our Eden, and we, the 
gardeners, are here to train its immeasurable possibili- 
ties and obliterate its limitations. 

The sun hung like a great illuminated orange just 
above the belt of wood in the western distance, put 
there ostensibly for the purpose of concealing where 
the sky and land meet. Its last rim, glowing softer 
and redder all the while, drops behind the dusky trees 
just as the last package is deposited upon the platform. 
The boat-bell gives a series of deep-toned sounds, fol- 
lowed by the musical tinkling of the smaller signals, 
and then with a great “ chouff” from her vitals, the 
majestic creature lifts her stage-plank tenderly. With 
a grace and dignity exceeded by no living thing, she 
glides backward and swinging around, seemingly re- 
luctant to say farewell, is soon in the current speeding 
upon her way. 

“ Ben.” 

“ Yes sir.” 

“ It is too late to boat this freight over to the shore 
to-night, yet I dislike exceedingly to leave it here un- 
til Monday.” 

“It sho’ is too late to tote it over to-night. Boss. 
But what kin we do ? It’s mighty bad for them boats 
to fetch freight here this time of a Sat’day.” 

Ben imitated Mr. Barrett’s attitude and air of con- 
cern, and they stood there side by side, the black man 
and the white, each with his hands thrust to the ut- 
most depths of his trousers’ pockets, and each staring 
at the pile of freight as though the solution of the 
problem might be revealed by some hitherto undiscov- 
ered arrangement of the various boxes and barrels. 


8 


“Well,” said Mr. Barrett in a voice that plainly 
showed his disappointment and perplexity, “It is 
growing late and I must return to the store. Give me 
the freight bills and I will go.” He walked to the edge 
of the platform, and turning spoke to the landing- 
keeper again : “ Ben, you must watch this freight, and 
not let anything happen to it.” 

“ All right, sir. You reckon I ought to kiver it with 
the tarp’lins?” 

“No, I hardly think that necessary; there is no pro- 
bability of its raining.” Mr. Barrett seated himself in 
the skiff, and Ben Simpson, stepping in after, took up 
the oars and rowed swiftly across the submerged fijsld 
between the landing and the levee. By and by where 
the waters now lie tranquil and glassy, luxuriant cot- 
ton will wave in the summer breeze, its roots nurtured 
by the new deposit left as toll for the river’s trespassing. 
When the skiff landed at the levee, both men got out; 
Mr. Barrett to mount his horse and ride to his place of 
business in the village, and the negro to go to his cabin 
standing a few yards from the road. Ben tied the skiff 
to a stake driven in the top of the levee and picked up 
the oars to carry them with him for safe keeping. As 
he threw these under his front gallery, two dogs rushed 
out of the house to greet him, upsetting as they came 
a little two-year old boy, Ben’s baby, who was stand- 
ing in the doorway eating his supper. As the little 
fellow toppled over, his chubby feet pointing for a 
moment at the rafters, he clung to his tin plate with 
only a slight loss of molasses; but his piece of corn 
bread fell from his hand and it was not long before its 
absence was perceived. 

“What’s Buddy crying about? You, Jakey, you 
tend to your buddy ! You know I got to finish i’nin’ 
your pa’s shirt ! ” 

Jakey, not many sizes larger than Buddy, harkened 


9 


to his mother’s voice, and giving his suspenders a ha- 
bitual readjustment by slipping first one thumb then 
the other beneath the osnaburg straps and lifting each 
successively with a swing of his whole body, came for- 
ward and assisted his little brother to his feet, inquiring 
what was the matter. 

Buddy extended his sticky empty hand and com- 
plained, his big black eyes rolling, “ B’e’d, b’e’d ! ” 

Jakey looked about, and finally found the missing 
substantial under the cupboard near the doorway. He 
brushed off the loose dirt and restored it to its owner, 
who contentedly resumed dipping it into his molasses 
and munching off the sweetened surface. Jakey went 
back to the corner of the fire-place and again occupied 
himself with a piece of soft drift wood which he was, 
with the aid of an old butcher knife, constructing into 
an “ Anchor Line.” 

Ben had in the meanwhile come into the house and 
seated himself not far from the ironing-board and be- 
gun playing with the dogs who followed him in, fawn- 
ing upon him. 

“ Ben, how us goin’ to church to-night, — can’t go, 
kin you ? ” Elvira questioned, pausing in her ironing 
to test the heat of her implement. 

“ Oh, I don’t know ; why ? ” 

“Nothin’, I was just studyin’ about the freight. 
Didn’t the ‘ City of the South ’ put off a big lot ? She 
staid a mighty long time.” 

“ Yes, but that don’t matter, I reckon. Perry John- 
son’s levee guard, you know, and while he’s got to keep 
awake anyhow, he can watch the landin’ too, just as 
well. I’ll ask him to do it.” 

“ Well.” Elvira made her iron hiss again and went 
on with her work. “ I wanted to know, not so much 
on my ’count as Ella’s. Ella Green come along here 
just ’while ago and askt ef us was goin’ to church. 


10 


’cause she said she wanted to go ’long with us ef we 
was. She said she didn’t keer ’bout goin’ though ’thout 
you was going to ’zort, ’cause she said she pintedly 
wanted to hear you. She said she’d come along ’bout 
time for us to start, and she ’lowed she hoped you 
wouldn’t disappoint her.” 

Ben felt considerably pleased with the compliment 
paid to his powers as an exhorter, and sat for a while 
in meditation ; then he roused himself and exclaimed : 

“ Look here, Elviry, put your ir’nin’ down ; I wants 
my supper, ’pecially ef I got to go see Perry ’fore we 
starts to church. Ef we goin’ we got to git there early 
on recount of its bein’ my night to ’zort.” 

“ Well, I reckon you wont go till I gits your shirt 
ir’ned, will you?” Elvira responded playfully. “Ef 
you wants your supper, help yourself; the meat’s in 
the skillet on that side of the hearth, and the bread’s 
in the oven over there. I spect you knows where the 
molasses is.” 

“Papa, there’s some potatoes in de ashes,” Jakey 
commented, indifferently. 

“La, there sho is! I had plumb forgot.” Elvira 
began poking in the ashes, and sure enough there they 
were, wrinkled and sticky, with the syrup that had 
simmered through cracks in the skins candied on the 
outside. Jakey had not forgotten the sweet potatoes if 
his mother had. He had been waiting for the time 
when she would announce that they were done ; so he 
laid his knife and steamboat aside and moved nearer. 
Buddy came forward too, and eagerly watched Jakey 
trying to cool that hottest of hot things, an ash baked 
sweet potato. He no doubt thought the cooling pro- 
cess unnecessarily long, but it is not the little darkey’s 
habit to fret, and" true to his class, he contented himsellf 
with petting the cat, and was at last rewarded for his 
patience with a nice potato soaking in spare-rib gravy. 


11 


“ Honey, who you reckon I seen on the ‘ City of the 
South ’ ?” Ben asked suddenly, looking up at his wife. 

“La, Ben, how you spec I know. Who was it?” 

Ben laid the bone he was picking in the plate upon 
his knee, and after deliberately wiping his mouth on 
the back of his hand, answered : 

“T’was Jeff Chesterfield.” 

“ Well I never! When did he get out the peniten- 
chy?” 

“ He say he been out six months. Say he been up 
the river. He asked lots of questions about how us all 
was gitten’ dong, and told me to tell everybody ‘howdy^ 
for him.” 

“ How long he goin’ to stay ? ” 

“ He never got off; he’s a regular rouster now. Say 
he likes runnin’ on the river mighty well.” 

“ Well, sir 1 I must tell Mattie about Jeff, so she can 
go to the boat to see him next time she passes. All 
them girls will want to see him, ’cause Jeff, he used to 
have every last one of ’em stuck on him.” 

“ They was that,” laughed Ben, “ and seems like to 
me there was somebody named ‘ Elviry ’ ’mongst the 
lot too.” Ben winked and smiled broadly at Elvira, 
who giggled, somewhat confused. 

“ Oh, well,” she said, “ that was before you found out 
how to go down into your pockets at picnics and such 
like.” She laughed again and added : “ What I got to 
leave wid you, too, is that the ‘ stuck ’ wasn’t all on one 
side, neither.” 

“ Un-hoo, oh yes, I understan’,” mumbled Ben, mock- 
ingly, shaking his head. He put his empty plate on 
the table, gave a long yawn of satisfaction, and picked 
up his old hat. “ Well, give us a kiss, and I’m ofi to 
see Perry.” He put his arm around his wife’s plump 
shoulders and gave her a rousing smack, then stopped 
in the door-way to ask, “You goin’ to leave the chillun 
with Aunt Nancy, ain’t you?” 


12 


‘‘Yes, I reckon so. Aunt Nancy’s always willin’ to 
look after ’em for me, and she’s the nearest one to leave 
’em with.” 

“ All right then, you be sure to be ready ginst I git 
back.” 

Ben walked briskly out to the road that followed the 
base of the levee, and turning into it, he went only a 
short distance before he was accosted. 

“ Hello, Elder, is that you ? ” 

“ That’s who it is,” Simpson returned cheerily, “ and 
you are the very man I’m hunting for. How’s your 
health?” Without waiting for Perry to reply, Ben 
launched into the business that brought him to seek 
the interview. 

“ That’s all right. I’ll do it for you — certainly, cer- 
tainly,” Perry assented readily. “You’re right late 
gittin’ started though, ain’t you ? ” 

“ No, I reckon not. It don’t take me long to go five 
miles after I put my foot into the road. You see. 
Perry, the particularest reason I’m so anxious to go is, 
that ’sides its bein’ my night to ’zort, I ain’t never 
missed a single night bein’ there in the whole three 
weeks the meetin’ been goin’ on, and it would look 
kind a odd for me to miss the very night I’m spected, 
don’t you know.” 

“ Exactly, of course, I understand.” 

“Well, so long! I’m a thousand times obliged to 
you. Perry, and I’ll do you a good turn first chance I 
git.” 

“ Oh, that’s all right,” again declared good-natured 
Perry, and as Ben turned and retraced his steps home- 
ward, Perry ascended the path that slanted diagonally 
up the tali enbankment, preparatory to beginning his 
silent vigil of the night. 


CHAPTER 11. 


When he reached the top of the levee, Perry turned 
his face toward the stream, and lifted his chest to inhale 
a deep delicious breath of the soft dreamy air. The 
moon was already up, and hung above the trees on the 
other side of the water, round and full; making the 
land, trees and river gleam white and radiant where 
there were no shadows, or deeply black where objects 
obstructed her rays. A mocking bird, anticipating sum- 
mer by the day’s promise of spring, swayed upon a 
branch of a pecan tree and sang a glorious nocturn to 
the little maiden listening in the willows. 

The pecan tree that harbored the noble lover stood 
some distance out from the levee, with the waters lap- 
ping its bark high up, and branding a collar about the 
trunk that would be a living record of their height 
alter summer months sent the river, humbled, down 
within its banks. In its infancy this tree shaded a 
ditch bank and turnrow, far back in the fields. It 
sprang from a pecan that dropped from a little boy’s 
pocket, and Had thrived in the untrodden spot. It be- 
gan its career fully three-quarters of a mile from the 
river’s bank, and had stood its ground sturdily through 
storm and sunshine. It had seen the ruthless waters 
encroaching nearer and nearer each year, until now, 
when it reared its handsome head in seeming concious- 
ness of its strength and completed height, it stood 
but a stone’s throw from the creeping tyrant that asked 
but a few years more to claim it as his prey. Then 
the powerful roots will be undermined, the vigorous 
boughs will sway pathetically, and with a roar the 
13 


14 


tree will crash forward, a hopeless victim to an insat- 
iate greed. 

Why the river selected this particular spot to vent 
his vindictiveness upon, we can never know. It may 
have been a particularly toothsome morsel, or there 
may have been a cause long years before the white 
man’s foot touched the river shore, why this mile of 
front should be blotted from the earth’s face, while 
across the stream, and a few miles further down, nature 
saw fit to donate the stolen soil where it never belonged. 
It reminds us of man’s changes as well as nature’s, for 
where one man’s hoard is steadily increasing, another 
is as surely yielding up his store. 

The tree will stand a few years still to tell us of the 
past, but the little boy, with grey streaks in his hair, 
bends over his desk in a city. The scant acres that 
time has left of his ancestral home are inadequate to 
justify him in trying to live upon them, and they have 
passed into another’s hands. 

Perry turned first to the right and looked down the 
levee, and then to the left, and shouldering his rifle 
again, he concluded to take the path to the left, as he 
could then begin to fulfil his promise to Ben at the 
outset of his watch. His beat extended half a mile on 
either side of the path where he ascended the levee, 
and it made no difiterence which direction he took first. 
It was his duty to walk from one end of his appointed 
position to the other, throughout the night, beginning 
whenever he chose. 

He was a small man, slender, strong and wirey, with 
a pleasant black face and an agreeable manner. Like 
Ben Simpson, he was fond of good clothes, but unlike 
Ben, who was an elder in the church. Perry wasn’t a 
seeker after religion. The love of gambling had a strong 
hold upon his nature, and although he enjoyed going to 
church and funerals, he acknowledged that he liked 


15 


balls better, so the Mississippi’s cleansing waters had 
never submerged his person and his sins, except when 
he was thrown out of a dug-out one day, by the care- 
lessness of a companion. 

No, Perry had never “ got religion,” notwithstanding 
the prayers for his conversion that had more than once 
been earnestly offered up by the congregation that num- 
bered his mother among its members. 

Perry walked to the northern limit of his beat, met 
the guard of the next station, exchanged friendly greet- 
ings, and going to the other end, passing the landing 
twice, noticing that everything looked serene in the 
moonlight. As he again turned and was walking up 
the river, he passed the point where the road coming 
from Sigma merged into the road at the levee, and he 
paused to look about him. A man was riding leisure- 
ably from the village, toward him, and Johnson was 
quick to recognize him. As soon as the horseman drew 
near enough, he called out cordially : “ Hello, Burrill ! 

Where you bound?” 

“ Why, hello, Johnson, that you, how do you do sir?” 

“ Pm tollerable, thank you, how’s yourself?” 

“Pretty fair, pretty fair. Fine night, ain’t it?” 
Burrill Coleman clucked to his horse, and started on 
his way; then turning in his saddle, he faced Perry, 
and asked: “Have you got any tobacco about you, 
Johnson? I clean forgot to get some before I left 
town, and I don’t believe I can wait till I get home for 
a chew.” 

Johnson laid his rifle down on the levee, and felt in 
one after another of his pockets. Presently drawing 
out a piece of tobacco, he started down the side of the 
embankment to take it to his friend, but Burrill 
checked him : 

“Just wait,” he said, “Pll come up after it. I ain’t 
in no hurry, and you got a heap sight more walkin’ to 
do tonight than I is.” 


16 


Coleman dismounted and hitched his horse to a fence 
post on the other side of the road. 

He was not much above medium height, but he 
bore himself with so much composure and dignity that 
he gave the impression of greater statue than he 
posessed. He was always well dressed and neat, and 
there was none of that loose-join tedness about him, 
nor slack fit in his clothes that is so characteristic of 
his race. He was unmistakably handsome, too, though 
so thoroughly negro in his type. His complexion was 
just the color of the wrapper of a good mild cigar, and 
his eyes bright, and quick in their movements. His 
thick lips were partly hidden by his short jetty mous- 
tache, and his nose unusually high, though wide, for a 
darkey’s, indicated strength and tenacity. Altogether, 
such an intelligent face for a negro is seldom seen, nor 
such command over people’s respect as he possessed, is 
often felt. When his horse, as well kept and as hand- 
some of its kind as Burrill was of his, wag secured, he 
climbed up the levee, swinging a lantern in his hand 
as he came. 

“ Well, sir!” exclaimed Johnson, jocosely, eying the 
lantern, “ Burrill, you must expect a change of weather 
’fore you gits home; what is you carryin’ a lantern for, 
this bright night?” 

Coleman joined in his friend’s laughter and answered : 
“ Well you see, it’s this a way : When anybody borrys 
something of mine, and keeps it a year, the first time 
they says somethin’ about ’turnin’ it back to me, I 
allays says, ‘Yes sir. I’ll take it along with me, bein’ as 
I am goin’ that a way.’ That,” he added, “is one of 
the finest lanterns you ever seen sir. It’s a regular con- 
ductor’s lantern. I bought just ’cause it was so pretty. 
You see the glass is red, and makes the prettiest kind 
of a light. Ever see a conductor’s lantern lighted? 
Let me show you.” 


17 


Coleman proceeded to light the lantern to show its 
beauties to the appreciative gaze of the country fellow 
who had never lived nearer than eight miles to a rail- 
road. While he was striking a match and adjusting 
the wick, Johnson said, more by way of filling an awk- 
ward pause than anything else: “You ’pears to take 
mighty good care of it; it looks bran new.” 

“Oh, it ain’t so new. It was second-hand when I 
bought it. You see its all nickel-plated, that’s what 
makes it look so bright.” Having succeeded in making 
the light burn brightly, Burrill held it high above his 
head and asked proudly: “ Ain’t she a beaut?” 

“ She sho is.” 

“Now, you see,” went on Coleman, “when a con- 
ductor wants his train to go on, he holds it so the en- 
gineer can see it, and waves it this a way. Then, when 
he wants the train to stop, he does — ” 

“ Halt ! ” thundered a voice so close that Coleman 
and Johnson sprang back in dismay. Standing a few 
paces from them on the levee, was a man with rifle at 
his shoulder, ready to fire. For a moment Perry’s eyes, 
blinded by gazing at the colored light, failed to recog- 
nize the assailant ; then he called excitedly : 

“Hello, Jim. Hold up there, it’s me — Perry — don’t 
you know me, man. For God’s sake, don’t shoot!” 

Jim’s rifle slowly sank to his side, and Burrill laughed 
in relief. 

“By George!” said the new comer, “I didn’t know 
what to make of you fellows there with that red light, 
when I first seen you. I thought you all was some 
rascal try in’ to cut the levee.” 

“ Hump,” muttered Coleman, contemptuously, “you 
must have thought we was mighty showy in our way 
of doin’ it.” 

Perry laughed, but Jim, putting his hand on his 
breast, wagged his head seriously. 


18 


“You all don’t know what a turn you give me,” he 
said. “ My heart’s just a heatin’ — ” 

“ Well, try some of this to steady your nerves,” Cole- 
man suggested, with a return of his equanimity, ofier- 
ing a flask of whisky. Jim took a long pull at it, and 
handed it back to its owner with a smack of his lips. 
Burrill passed the bottle on to Perry, then taking a 
drink himself, he sat down on the edge of the levee 
with his feet hanging toward the road. His compan- 
ions followed his example as he asked : 

“How’s the water?” 

“Oh, she’s failin’ fast now,” answered Johnson. 
“ Goin’ down like the bottom had dropped out all of a 
sudden.” 

“ She can’t go down any too fast to suit me,” said 
Burrill. “ I tell you, sirs, I never feels easy till she’s 
plumb back in her banks again.” 

“ I don’t know,” drawled Jim, thoughtfully. “ I don’t 
never feel scared much, when the levee’s as strong and 
big as it is here. Fact is, I don’t see why they don’t 
discharge us guards now, the water is failin’ so fast. 
What they want guards on good levees for, anyway, 
Burrill?” 

“ Why man, it’s just this a way : sluffin’ levees and 
crawfish holes ain’t all we got to be afraid of.” 

“ Hum ! ” interrupted Perry, “ I should say not. 
Why, Jim, you know well enough they give you that 
gun and stood you up on this levee to shoot anybody 
that tried to cut it.” 

“Well, of course, Perry, I know that, but who th6y 
reckon would be fool enough to cut a levee ? They’d 
know as well as anybody hit would ruin the country.” 

Burrill laughed. “ Why, man, ’tain’t nobody livin’ 
here that’d want to cut it, but just s’posin somebody 
had a weak levee in front of their house, fifteen or 
twenty miles above here, and they’d take a notion to 


19 


come down here and make a little hole in our levee to 
let the water spread in here, and ease up the strain up 
their way, don’t you reckon it would be a help to him? 
Or, s’posin somebody had two or three hundred fine 
cypress logs back there in the swamp that they’d like 
to float down to New Orleans, don’t you reckon it 
would be money in their pocket if the levee would 
break somewhere close about, so the water would come 
and lift they raft and help ’em get it out into the river ? ” 

“You don’t say!” muttered Jim in amazement. 
“Do you know, I never thought of such a thing! 
Lord, Lord! You reckon anybody would be mean 
enough to ’stroy a whole country, and drown out every 
cow and hog like that ? ” 

Burrill Coleman smiled grimly. “I have heard of 
such things bein’ done,” he said. 

“ Well, I just tell you what’s a fact,” began Perry, 
grasping his rifle nervously, “them kind of people 
ought to be shot down in they tracks like wild beas’es. 
I’d — I’d — if I’d catch a man on my beat, up to any 
such rascality, I wouldn’t show him any more mercy 
than I would a mad dog.” 

“You mighty right,’’ assented Jim, vehemently. 
“ Well,” he added, after a pause, “that bein’ the case, 
I don’t keer how long they keeps us men on the levee 
just so they pays me my two dollars a night. Bleepin’ 
tas’es just as good to me in day time anyhow.” 

As Jim was saying this, Burrill began to hum a tune 
softly to himself. Perry heard him and said : 

“ Sing that, Burrill, that’s one of my favorites,” and 
Burrill commenced with the chorus of that rousing 
song, “ I’ll meet you in the City of the New Jemsalem.” 

Jim, a regular church goer, and Perry, both joined in, 
although the latter did not know all the words, and the 
trio sounded superb, floating out upon the calm night, 
with the Mississipi’s mighty bosom for a sounding- 
board. Burrill sang in his strong, rich bass, while Jim 


20 


sang ordinarily, and Perry pitched his voice as high as 
a woman’s, and hummed when he did not know the 
words. 

With excellent voices, the rule among the negro race, 
it seems strange that the world has never produced 
either a remarkable tenor or prima donna from its 
ranks. 

When the song was finished, Jim slapped his hand 
upon his knee and exclaimed : 

“ That was splendid ! It does me good all over to 
hear such a chime as that. Come, let’s sing another.” 

Without hesitating, he began “Am I soldier of the 
Cross.” This hymn, too, was sung, and was followed 
by several more, when Johnson jumped to his feet, ex- 
claiming : 

“Look here boys, I hates to tear myself away from 
good company, but I got to be goin’. Ef the captain 
of the guards was to happen along about now, he might 
think us all was havin’ too good a time.” 

“I wonder who’s the captain for tonight?” said Jim, 
getting on his feet. “ It might be Mr. Barrett ; he ain’t 
been now for more’n a week.” 

“ Well, ’tain’t likely they’ll be a captain out tonight. 
Everybody seems to feel satisfied ain’t nothin’ goin’ to 
happen now the water’s failin’,” said Burrill, yawning. 

“ Well,” said Perry, “ captain or no captain, whoever 
he is, or whenever he comes along, I’m thankful to say 
he ain’t caught me nappin’ yet. Whether he comes 
along at ten, twelve, four, or between times, Perry’s 
always been on duty o. k.” 

Burrill picked up his lantern from where he had put 
it behind him, as he sat down to talk, and extinguish- 
ed it ; then the three darkeys started off in their sev- 
eral directions. 

As the two levee guards resumed their marching, 
they would have been astonished if told that they had 
spent an hour and a half in singing, and conversation. 


CHAPTER III. 


“Virgil, ask your father to please come to his break- 
fast. Tell him that the bell has been rung for him 
twice, and every thing is getting cold.” Mrs. Barrett 
spoke impatiently, but the little boy she addressed, as 
he dashed into the room, was too much excited to heed 
her manner, and scarcely caught the meaning of her 
words. 

“Oh, mother, he can’t come ! He’s out on the gal- 
lery talking to Mr. Henderson and Mr. McStea. The 
landing was robbed last night, and ever so many things 
stolen ! ” 

“What, robbed!” cried Mrs. Barrett and Nellie in 
one voice, starting from the table in astonishment. 
Little Stella, apprehending that something dreadful 
had happened, lifted her troubled, inquiring face, not 
knowing what to say. Mrs. Barrett and Miss Barrett, 
preceded by Virgil, hurriedly left the room to hear the 
particulars of the robbery, leaving the little girl seated 
in her high-chair, close to the table. Stella did not 
know what robbery meant, but she understood what 
this implied thoroughly. She lifted her voice and 
shrieked : 

“Mama, sitter, brozzer! Oh, somebody, come and 
put me down I ” They had all forgotten her helpless 
position, though, and the tiny maiden was abandoning 
herself to despair, when Allen came into the room to 
bring hot waffles and released her. She, too, ran to the 
gallery then, but too late to hear any of the news, for 
her father’s partner and clerk were already down the 
steps, and Mr. Barrett was saying : 

“ If you wont come in and take breakfast with us, 
21 


2 


22 


then, I will eat as quickly as I can and join you at the 
office, where we can discuss this more fully and decide 
what can be done.” 

The callers left, and the family returned to the break- 
fast table. 

“All we know,” said Mr. Barrett, in answer to his 
children’s inquiries, as he unfolded his napkin, “ is that 
several boxes containing freight were broken open, and 
Mr. Henderson estimates the loss roughly at something 
between five and seven hundred dollars. It is the 
boldest and most unprecedented theft I ever knew to 
occur in this parish. The boxes were evidently opened 
with the aid of a crowbar, as one was found lying on 
the platform, and it is very remarkable that this, which 
necessitated more or less noise, could have been done 
without attracting the attention of the levee guards.” 

“Perhaps the robbers watched their chance, and 
opened the boxes while the guards were at the further 
ends of their beats,” suggested Mrs. Barrett. 

“ Even granting that,” said Mr. Barrett, “ the water 
magnifies sound, and the trees echo so ringingly, I do 
not see how Perry and Jim could have failed to hear 
the noise.” 

Mr. Barrett eat as hurriedly as he could between his 
remarks to his wife and children, and was soon on his 
way to the store where he expected to find Mr. Hen- 
derson and Mr. McStea awaiting him. 

The firm of Barrett & Henderson was one of several 
concerns of the kind in the parish, owning vast tracts 
of land and employing hundreds of colored people as 
laborers. Barrett & Henderson owned about seven 
thousand acres of cultivated land, divided into numer- 
ous plantations and managed, including all ages, fully 
a thousand negroes. These negroes bought their ne- 
cessities from the stores on the various plantations, 
paying for them at the end of the year, when cotton 


23 


and cotton seed went to market. In this way, they, 
like the similar companies, did an immense system of 
credit business that left little for the small cash dealer 
to do. When there is no overflow, no cotton worms, 
no drouth and no deluge from the skies, the merchant- 
planter, and the darkey too, fairly coins money and 
rolls in wealth. On the other hand, when circum- 
stances agree to combine against him, the negro gets 
his food and wearing apparel throughout the year, just 
the same, and his only trouble is that he hasn’t much 
if any money to spend for whisky and trifles at Christ- 
mas ; but the merchant has an empty safe and a regi- 
ment of creditors to confront. If nothing runs through 
the little end of the horn, nothing can be expected to 
flow out of the big end. The planter can bridge over 
a year or two of such adversities well enough, and be 
fairly set upon his feet again by one good crop, but the 
tide of successive failures is hard to stem. 

Barrett & Henderson’s most important plantation, 
Englehart, five miles from Sigma, was the largest of 
their places, and did the next biggest furnishing busi- 
ness to the house in the village, where the head office 
and the two chiefs of the firm were located. These two 
partners bad many tastes in common, and were warm, 
congenial friends, although they possessed so many 
characteristics that were entirely different. 

Mr. Henderson, ten years the younger, was married 
also, and like Mr. Barrett, was a keen-witted business 
man. He was cool and calculating in his financial 
relations, with a belief that every man warranted a 
certain amount of watching, and having this perpetual 
doubt of his fellow beings in his mind, he acted some- 
what as a check upon the elder’s more generous trust- 
fulness. He read his daily papers with a religious 
exactness, at least those portions that treated of politics, 
the markets or casualties, but he looked upon the rest 


24 


of the printed matter as he did upon the blank margins 
of the sheet — something put there simply to fill up 
space, or perhaps, to cause women to waste valuable 
time, as he knew his wife did, who preferred reading 
Paris or New York fashions to keeping up with the 
price of meat or flour. Mrs. Henderson was young, 
though, and her husband hoped with time and gentle 
reproof to correct this failing of his helpmeet. 

On the other hand, Mr. Barrett was what would any- 
where be called a cultured man. In 1864 he awoke to 
the realization that he was eighteen years old, his edu- 
cation hardly more than begun, and the fact staring 
him in the face that he must go to work for himself or 
starve. There were too many brothers and sisters 
younger than himself dependent upon the scant re- 
mains of his father’s shattered estate for any of it to be 
devoted to further schooling for himself, so with the 
courage of youth, he picked up his oar, and began pad- 
dling in the direction of the success he now enjoyed. 
His way lay, at times, along rugged, turbulent places, 
but hard manual labor never defeated him, and he 
looked back now upon his training as the best disci- 
pline that could have come to him. During his youth- 
ful struggles he acquired a love for knowledge, and 
never lost an opportunity of enlightening himself upon 
all topics, from then to the present time. He was what 
could be called a self-made man, but he had had good 
material handed down to him from a long line of an- 
cestors out of which to make himself. 

In personal appearance he was decidedly handsome. 
He was much above medium height, and rather stout 
than otherwise. He wore a short dark beard that suited 
his dark hair and handsome grey eyes. His manners 
were deliberate and stately, with that elegance of style 
that once prevailed in Louisiana among ladies and 
gentlemen, but which has yielded to the careless good- 


25 


fellowship between the present day man and woman. 
Mr. Barrett with his leisurely composure and thought- 
fulness of the minor comforts of others, made himself 
seem a little isolated from those contrasted with him. 
Not so much in what he did, however, as his way of 
doing it. Another man could open a door or a gate 
for a lady, or assist her into a carriage, and there would 
seem merely a duty done, but when Mr. Barrett per- 
formed these little courtesies, there seemed, at the same 
time, a favor having been craved and a special honor 
conferred. 

When Mr. Barrett reached the office, the two gentle- 
men who had left him but a half hour before were 
sitting beside the stove waiting for him. He took his 
accustomed chair at his desk, and turned around in it 
to hear what Mr. Henderson was saying. 

“ In thinking over the matter,” Mr. Barrett said, “ it 
seems so improbable that the goods could have been 
taken without Perry Johnson being aware of it, that I 
can hardly resist believing that he must know who the 
thieves are, even if he did not assist them in the rob- 
bery.” 

“That is exactly what I have believed from the 
first,” said Mr. Henderson. “ If Perry did not help to 
steal the goods, he knew how to keep mighty quiet 
while the others did. No, there is no doubt in my mind 
that both Perry and Ben got their share of the goods.” 

“ Oh no, not Ben,” protested Mr. Barrett. “ Of course 
I blame Ben for not attending to his duty and watch- 
ing the freight himself as I told him to, but I believe 
him innocent of the theft.” 

“ He certainly seems worried,” began Mr. McStea, 
but Mr. Henderson cut him off shortly : 

“ Dudley, how can you tell anything about a nigger, 
and a half-way preacher at that. You can depend upon 
it, a darkey will always act his part well.” 


26 


McStea said no more. He had been working for the 
firm of Barrett & Henderson long enough to have 
learned some of the peculiarities of the latter gentle- 
man’s disposition. 

“ But, Henderson, you must admit that until last 
night Ben has always attended to his landing business 
scrupulously and entirely satisfactorily. He has often 
had large sums of money, that the boats paid him for 
seed, in his possession ; sums far exceeding the amount 
of the goods stolen last night.” 

Henderson was silent. 

“ If I may make a suggestion,” put in McStea, “ I 
would say that the goods were stolen by some stray 
craft — a flat-boat or a dago’s lugger — that passed during 
the night.” 

“ That is plausible,” Mr. Barrett said thoughtfully, 
and Mr. Henderson inquired irritably : 

“ What if it was, Dudley, could those boxes have 
been ripped open and the boards split without the levee 
guards hearing it, especially when everything was in 
favor of the listeners? The night was perfectly calm, 
and the moon made almost as much light as day.” 

“Perry might have dozed off. You know a darkey 
can sleep any where or at any time,” Mr. Barrett urged. 

“But he swears he never closed his eyes from the 
time he went on duty till daylight. And he says he 
saw no one but the levee guards at either end of his 
beat, except a few people he knew, on their way to 
church,” Mr. McStea said. 

“Now look here, ” said Mr. Henderson; “who knew 
of the boat’s landing, and putting ofi the freight be- 
sides Ben Simpson ? ” 

“ Ah, that I do not know,” said Mr. Barrett. “ I went 
to the landing myself, as you are aware, because I Was 
particularly anxious to see that the freight was properly 
stacked upon the platform, besides my wanting to see 


27 


Captain Hill. There were a few women standing on 
the levee when the boat came in, but they went off, for 
they were not there when I crossed back to get on my 
horse.” 

“Do you know who they were?” asked Henderson. 

“Well, old Mingo Green’s grand-daughter — what’s 
her name? Ella, I believe — was one of them, and 
Sallie Jefferson was among the number, but I scarcely 
noticed the group as I passed.” 

The three men sat for some time in deep thought, 
then Mr. Henderson jumped to his feet. 

“Here,” he exclaimed, “this will never do; we must 
go at this thing if we expect to get back the stolen 
goods.” 

“What do you advise?” asked Mr. Barrett, slowly 
rising. 

“ Why, first of all, a thorough search of every house 
on Lilyditch plantation ! I hate to have to do such a 
thing on Sunday, but if it is not done to-day, there 
will be no use doing it at all. Dudley, did you have 
the horses saddled?” 

“Yes sir, they are ready.” 

The party started out, followed by the colored store 
porter, whose interest and curiosity prompted him to 
go along, and before they were fairly out of Sigma, 
they were joined by Mr. Chaflin, manager of a planta- 
tion some ten miles distant, and several other gentle- 
men, who had heard of the robbery, besides the usual 
contingent, several boys. 

The village of Sigma has very little to recommend 
it either as a place of business or a place of residence. 
It is one of the many dozing old towns, put back from 
the river bank as a mother puts her child back on the 
bed, to keep it from falling over the edge. There are a 
post-office, a few stores, and a half dozen residences 
wffiere white people live, because the bread-winner of 


28 


the family is either a doctor, a merchant or a teacher. 
There is a Knights of Pythias lodge, which is used 
also as the school house, and a church too, where some- 
times a preacher comes and delivers a sermon. These 
preachers are usually divinity students out for practice, 
or hard worked religious men with regular appoint- 
ments at several other places, seldom finding a fifth 
Sunday or an extra day which can be devoted to Sigma. 
When a preacher does find an opportunity to come, 
the news is spread and a congregation is gathered from 
the surrounding plantations to supplement the one or 
two pew-fulls that the town can afford. People do not 
mind riding five or ten miles to church occasionally, 
even to hear an indifierent sermon. 

Sigma has two merits : The first it possesses together 
with the other swamp towns of Louisiana, that is, the 
dearth of what the negro contemptuously calls “poor 
white trash.” The poor white man and the poor red 
soil exist in the state, but their location is further west- 
ward, and the river front is given up to the dark man, 
the dark soil, and the well-to-do whites. One of the 
strongest attractions of the extreme South, except, of 
course, in large towns and cities, is the absence of that 
distressing element, the pauper. 

Sigma’s other merit, or rather charm, is its long row 
of shade trees that grow on the sunny side of the one 
solitary street. The few residences, neat and comfort- 
able, with their gardens of beautiful flowers and shrubs, 
are at one end of the street and the business houses 
are along the other, with the row of trees reaching from 
the limit of the one portion to the last store in the line. 
These trees alternating, first a china tree with its dark 
glossy leaves, and then a shimmering, silver-leaf pop- 
lar, that at once throws into relief the beauty of its 
neighbor and enhances the flashing brightness of its 
own dainty foliage. Yet, as is so often the case. Sigma’s 


29 


greatest beauty is for a time each year its greatest draw- 
back. Just now, when Spring days are beginning to 
grow warmer, only here, and there the china tree’s tiny 
lilac and purple blossoms have burst into perfection, 
tender and moist, and they suggest, rather than pro- 
claim perfume; but by and by, when seventy or eighty 
trees all unite in distilling their wealth of sweets, the 
air will throb with the power of the odor, and sensitive 
nostrils will revolt at nature’s extravagance. Then, 
later, weary ears will ache, when the combination of 
the small boy, the pop-gun and the green china berry 
is manifestly at large. 


CHAPTER IV. 


Mr. Barrett and his companions took no time to heed 
the bursting of leaf or blossom. They rode over the 
two miles of road, spreading between Sigma and Lily- 
ditch Landing, without noticing any of the things 
along the way that were invisible because of inevitable 
presence. As they reached the path that lead from the 
levee to Simpson’s house, that darkey joined them ; his 
yellow face expressive of anxiety and distress. 

“ Hello, Ben ! Anything new ? ” called Mr. Hender- 
son, seeing him approach. 

“No sir, nothin’ at all. I ain’t been back over there 
since you and Mr. McStea was there.” 

“Come, then,” said Mr. Barrett, “we will go over 
now and look about.” He spoke with his habitual 
cheeriness, and dismounting, gave his horse to the 
darkey, who hitched him to a little tree. Ben then 
took the other two horses from their riders, and hitched 
them also, and the three gentlemen from the office 
seated themselves in the skiff, and Ben sitting to the 
oars, they were soon landed at the platform, leaving the 
crowd collepted at the levee, to stand there waiting for 
something else to happen. 

There was really nothing for him to see, when Mr. 
Barrett reached the platform. He took the freight bills 
from his pocket to assist him in making an inventory 
of what was lost, and scanned the list and remaining 
packages. There were the barrels of flour, meal and 
coal oil, just as he had left them at dusk the day before; 
and the boxes of meat were there too, but all that was 
left of the dry goods, consisting of a box each of calico, 
30 


31 


check, shoes, and men’s clothing, were the empty boxes 
with their broken tops scattered about. 

While the gentlemen were talking to one side in un- 
dertones, Ben idly picked up the crow-bar that was 
lying on the floor near the empty boxes. He had seen 
the implement when he was there earlier in the morn- 
ing, and had turned it over with his foot; but now he 
stooped and took it in his hands. He looked at it 
closely for a moment, and cried out in astonishment : 

“Well sir! Mr. Barrett, take a good look at this here 
crow-bar. Where you reckon it come from? ” As the 
darkey held it up for inspection, the gentlemen closed 
about him. Ben went on : “ You ain’t never seen that 
thing before, is you ? ” 

“ Well if that — Ben, who brought that crow-bar over 
from Lilyditch gin ? ” 

“ God A’mighty knows. Boss.” 

‘‘ Isn’t this the one we had at the gin all winter ? ” 

“ It pintedly is,” Ben asserted, emphatically. “ I’d 
know it anywhere. Don’t you see here ? I cut this little 
mark on it myself one day while I was restin’. I picked 
up a file what was lyin’ handy, and tried it on it while 
Pete an’ me set a talkin’.” 

Mr. Henderson looked at Mr. Barrett. “ I suppose 
you agree with me then, that it was some one on Lily- 
ditch, who committed the robbery,” he said tersely. 

Just as the gentlemen reached the levee on their re- 
turn from investigating the platform, the manager and 
clerk from Englehart plantation rode up. The news of 
the robbery had reached the plantation before these 
gentlemen had left, and it was only necessary for Mr. 
Barrett to relate a few of the particulars to them ; then 
the crowd divided into two searching parties, each start- 
ing forth in a different direction, Mr. Barrett leading 
one party, and Mr. Henderson, the other. 

Mr. Barrett led the way immediately to Perry’s house. 


32 


and as he drew near, he saw that darkey sitting on his 
front steps, the spring sun shining on his dejected 
figure. He arose to his feet, and taking his hat off, 
even more humbly than was his habit, if that were 
possible, he bowed first to Mr. Barrett and then to the 
other gentlemen of the party. Mr. Barrett got down 
from his horse and addressed him kindly : 

“ Perry, it is my unpleasant duty to make an inves- 
tigation of your premises,” he began, “ and endeavor to 
discover traces of the stolen goods, and if, as I hope, we 
shall find nothing to convict you, we shall at least suc- 
ceed in clearing you of all suspicion.” 

Muffled sobs within the cabin, breaking out afresh, 
made Perry look uneasily over his shoulder into the 
room ; then he slowly turned his head back and looked 
up into Mr. Barrett’s face. 

“God knows, Boss,” he began, his voice breaking 
slightly, “ you welcome to search this place from top to 
bottom, and I’ll be glad to have you do it. And, Mr. 
Barrett, ef taking it out on my back for not tendin’ to 
my duty better, will make you know how I hates what 
happened last night, you can beat me like a dog, sir, 
an’ I wont say a word. I know I is to blam, an’ I ain’t 
going ’spute anybody what says I is ; ’cause ef I hadn’t 
promised Ben I look after the landin’, he’d a done it 
his self.” 

“Well, well. Perry, I hope your distress at this un- 
fortunate occurence will teach you a lesson. I freely 
own that I do not suspect you in the least, of being 
implicated in the robbery, and when we have made 
such investigation as we deem necessary, I shall clear 
you of suspicion.” 

The gentlemen entered the house, and Perry seated 
himself upon the steps again, scarcely noticing the re- 
marks made to him by the darkeys who having united 
themselves with the expedition, stood about holding 
the horses as an excuse for being there. 


33 


As Mr. Barrett entered the room, Perry’s mother, who 
was sitting near the fire-place with her apron over her 
head to stiffle her moans, arose to her feet, and dumbly 
taking a key, tied to a dirty string, from her pocket, 
she extended it toward the gentlemen with an old- 
fashioned courtesy. Each of the three white men in- 
stinctively shrank from taking it, and Mr. McStea, 
seeing Mr. Barrett’s embarrassment, came to his rescue, 
and said kindly: 

‘‘Oh, come now, Aunt Nancy, brace up. No need of 
crying like this; uncover your head and open your 
trunks and things, and we will very soon satisfy our- 
selves that everything is all right.” 

The old woman did as she was told, and opened first 
one thing, then another. She voluntarily turned over 
the mattresses on the beds, showing that there was 
nothing concealed beneath them but a few unironed 
garments, left over from her last washing. There was 
nothing whatever to point suspicion upon the Johnsons, 
however, except one pair of new shoes; these were 
found in the trunk that was opened first of all, and 
caused Mr. Barrett’s brow to pucker with added worry. 
He looked questioningly at McStea, and that gentle- 
man hastened to reassure him. 

“This is all right, Mr. Barrett,” he said, looking 
closer at the shoes. “ I sold these to her yesterday. You 
see,” he added, handing a shoe to Mr. Barrett, “ this is 
last winter’s stock. Our new shoes were ordered from 
Fellheim & Stein; this you see is a Newhouse & Son’s 
make.” 

There were but the usual two rooms to the cabin, the 
front room, and the shed room in the rear, and with no 
ceiling over head it was but the work of a few moments 
to pry into the most secret recesses of the little house. 
It had its share of newspaper, magazine and advertise- 
ment pictures pasted about the walls for ornament; its 


34 


average of dirt in the corners and its dust and spider 
webs upon the rafters and other projections about the 
rough walls; its liberal sprinkling oi dirt-dobber nests 
wherever those industrious little masons had seen fit to 
locate their residences, and withal the cabin was like 
all others, differing from them scarcely more than one 
egg differs from another in outer semblance. After the 
rooms were carefully examined, and delivered up noth- 
ing of a questionable nature, the gentlemen went out- 
side and searched the* chicken house, the pig pen, and 
the wood pile, but nothing indicated that it concealed 
anything justifying doubt of Johnson’s honesty. 

Every house and out building on the plantation, in- 
cluding the gin house and stables, was searched, but to 
no purpose. In most instances the inmates willingly 
submitted to the inquisition and only very few except- 
ions evidenced opposition. In one case a belligerent 
woman muttered so vindictively at Mr. Henderson, not 
to him, however, that her husband gave her a slap on 
the mouth that made her stagger. 

“You fool you,” he cried wrathfully, “you ain’t got 
the sense you was born wid ! ” 

It took the infuriated woman but a moment to re- 
cover from his blow, and with a leap she attacked her 
assailant savagely. At the first of the encounter the 
searching party took refuge in ignominious flight, but 
as long as they were within ear shot they heard a 
woman’s voice raised in protest, and the sound of a 
strap descending upon human flesh in response. Such 
little family interviews were not of sufficiently rare 
occurrence, to excite either much surprise or sympathy 
among the neighbors, so the searchers went on their way, 
and finally returned to the store, not one particle wiser 
than they were when they left it, except that it was 
evident that the boxes were opened with the aid of a 
crow-bar, and that the said crow-bar belonged to Lily- 


35 


ditch gin, a building situated four or five hundred 
yards from the levee where the crossing was usually 
made to the landing. 

The robbery was talked of throughout the parish, 
and elicited no small amount of interest, for such a 
thing had never happened before, not even in the mem- 
ory of the very oldest inhabitant. 

The next day Mr. McStea, with Perry and Ben as 
oarsmen, rowed down as far as Vicksburg, in a yawl, 
inquiring at every landing, if anything had been seen 
of persons carrying what might have been the stolen 
goods, but no one was able to give any information 
whatever upon the matter. When he reached town, 
Mr. McStea engaged the services of a detective, who 
promised to do all in his power to discover the stolen 
goods, but time went on, interest and curiosity wore 
themselves dull with nothing new to feed upon, but 
not a trace of the robber or his booty were found. 


CHAPTER V. 


Dinner was kept waiting for Mr. Barrett until nearly 
five o’clock. When the hour for serving it arrived and 
he had not returned, Mrs. Barrett and Nellie neither 
one being hungry, agreed to wait for him ; and after the 
waiting was begun and every next ten minutes was ex- 
pected to bring him, it was easier to continue to wait 
than to take a decisive step in opposition to the hope 
that he would at any moment come. The March wind 
was blustering and scolding without, adding by its 
petulant gusts and peevish sighs to the perturbation of 
the ladies within. 

I wonder if they have discovered anything yet, 
mother?” Nellie queried over and over again. “Ido 
wish father would come, or at least send us some mes- 
sage. Suspense is so awfully hard to endure.” 

Nellie tried earnestly to suppress her restlessness, 
but she found herself yielding to it in spite of all her 
efforts. Sunday in a little village where there is no 
religious service to attend is a tiresome day at best, and 
when there is anxious waiting united with the day’s 
enforced inertia, it is a great trial to the patience of im- 
pulsive youth. 

Had it been any other day in the week, Nellie would 
have cut out a dress or an apron for Stella, and in mak- 
ing the sewing machine wheels fiy around merrily, 
drown out the sounds of the fretful wind or hold her 
thoughts in check. She was one of those energetic 
mortals who required employment to ensure repose of 
spirits, and she usually chose her work with reference 
to the mood she was in. 

That Sunday she was totally at a loss what to do. 

36 


37 


She tried to read and kept her eyes steadfastly upon 
the page, but every now and then the words would 
dance into a heap and from their confusion the landing 
platform, surrounded by water and scattered over with 
empty boxes as Mr. McStea had described it, would 
stare at her and defy her to forget it. She tried the 
piano and played and sang for an hour or more. The 
children came to her and asked her to read to them, 
and feeling sympathy for them in their loneliness, she 
did her best, that they at least would be entertained ; 
but Virgil devoted so much attention toward catching 
an adventurous fly that had sallied from his winter 
quarters and was taking a view of the outside world 
from the window pane, and Stella occupied herself so 
assiduously in the equally fruitless task of making 
Virgil behave himself and let the stiff little pilgrim 
alone, that Nellie put the book down in disgust. 

“ Oh pshaw ! ” she cried, you children are no more 
interested in listening than I am in reading! Come, 
let us make some candy.” 

Both children wheeled away from the window, all 
interest and enthusiasm, and Nellie gave her com- 
mands. 

“Brother,” she began, “you go to the china closet, 
and get the pecans, and sister, you look in the side- 
board drawer for the nutcrackers, while I get the cups 
and waiter. Come, mother, I know you want some- 
thing to do, too.” 

The scheme was eminently successful. Every one 
cheered up, and the children flitted about their ap- 
pointed tasks gaily. Soon all were seated around the 
chair that was to serve as table, ready to begin. Nellie 
picked up a nutcracker and held it up to give em- 
phasis to her words. 

“Now mind the rules,” she began. “The first one 
who eats a pecan or a piece of pecan before we have 


3 


38 


both cups full, will have to put a nickel in his charity- 
bank.” 

“Now, sister,” Virgil protested, “that isn’t fair! 
Let’s eat a few before we begin, because I haven’t had 
a one to-day.” 

“ No, he must keep the rules, mustn’t he, mother ? ” 

There followed much banter and innocent laughter. 
As Nellie had suspected when she reminded them of 
their. self-imposed penalty, Mrs. Barrett was the first 
one to forget herself and put a tempting piece of nut 
into her mouth. Virgil was on the alert, and shouted : 

“ Five cents for mother’s bank, five cents for mother’s 
bank 1 ” 

Mrs. Barrett laughed and promised to pay her dues, 
and not three minutes later she had the fun of catch- 
ing Master Virgil. When the nuts were ready, the two 
little children followed Nellie into the kitchen and 
watched her melt the sugar, and stirring the pecans 
into it pour the whole upon a platter, a confection so 
delicious that they could scarcely wait for it to cool. 

Just as Nellie bore the candy, ready to be eaten, 
through the dining room door into the hall, Mr. Barrett 
entered through the front door opposite. As Mrs. Bar- 
rett expected, several gentlemen came with him. Mr. 
Durieux and Mr. Wheeler from Englehart came as they 
usually did on Sunday, and Mr. Chaflin, the sometimes 
guest, was with him, too. Dinner w^as served immedi- 
ately, and while all were at the table the day’s adven- 
tures were recounted to the ladies and commented 
upon. 

The Barrett residence is one of the largest and hand- 
somest homes in the parish. It stands somewhat re- 
moved from the other houses in Sigma, by its large 
orchard and lawn, and it is the last house on the wide, 
well shaded street. Its pretty furnishings were chosen 
with regard to comfort in the first place, and with 


39 


beauty as essential but of secondary importance. 
Southern architecture provides consistencies for sum- 
mer, and for the most part leaves chance to the consid- 
eration of winter’s necessities. The large open fire 
place is never omitted, but neither is the wide gallery 
across the front of the house, and frequently entirely 
surrounding the edifice, shading both sides and rear, 
while the hall through the centre, measuring from eight 
to twenty feet in width, according to other proportions 
of the building, is considered of as much importance 
as the bed-rooms or dining-room itself. Ventilation 
in summer is the chief result aimed at, and when the 
few days of each winter come, that are cold enough to 
send the mercury to within twenty or ten degrees of 
zero, and the icy blast whistles through every crack 
around the great full length windows, the wood is 
piled higher upon the andirons and the merry blazes 
laugh at old Boreas up the wide throated chimney. 

When dinner was over and the family and guests 
had returned to the sitting-room, Mr. Durieux declined 
the cigar Mr. Barrett offered him, crossed the room and 
took a chair near Miss Barrett, where under cover of 
conversation about an absent friend, he dropped his 
voice a little lower and asked : 

“ Have you an engagement for this evening. Miss 
Nellie?” 

The girl looked up quickly and blushed guiltily. 

No — a — that is, not till after dark.” 

“ Will you ride with me, then ? ” 

“Yes indeed, I should enjoy it. I have felt like a 
caged bird, all day.” 

“ Thank you,” said the young man, rising. “ Shall I 
tell Allen to saddle your horse ? ” 

“Yes, tell him, and I will soon be ready.” 

The two young people left the room together, she to 
don her riding habit, and he, who was almost as much 


40 


at home in the house as she, to go to the kitchen where 
he would most likely find the house-boy. 

When Nellie re-entered the parlor ready for her sad- 
dle, she went up to Mrs. Barrett, as she sat talking to 
old Mr. Chaflin, and said : 

“ Mother, I am going riding with Mr. Durieux ; Mr. 
Chaflin will excuse me,” she added, smiling upon that 
gentleman, and glancing at Mr. Wheeler, she said : 
“You will be here when I return.” Both gentlemen 
arose as she spoke. 

“No, thank you,” said the younger. “I thought of 
calling on Miss Carrie, so will go there while Jules is 
riding.” 

“ And I, too, must bid you adieu,” said Mr. Chaflin. 
“ It is a long ride to Willowburn for an old fellow like 
me, and I must be going.” 

Amid laughter and chat Nellie and Durieux with- 
drew from the rest, and were soon mounted and passing 
through the gate ; then, as was his habit when alone 
with the girl, he took up his favorite language and 
asked : “ Quelle route pr'efirez vous pendref ” 

Without speaking, Miss Barrett quickly turned her 
horse’s head, and waved her hand to indicate the direc- 
tion she meant to take. They rode rapidly at first, for 
as the girl said, she had felt like a prisoner all day, and 
it was a relief to her to feel her freedom. When she 
was with the manager of Englehart, Nellie was entirely 
at her ease, and talked or remained silent as the humor 
struck her. She had known him since the first day he 
came from New Orleans to Sigma, five years before, to 
clerk in her father’s store at Englehart, and she, little 
thirteen year old school girl that she was, laughed at 
his strong French accent and his nerveful French jest- 
ures. She had long since, however, become accustomed 
to all three ; the man, his speech, and his manners, all 
of which had gradually modified with time and contact 
with the slower motioned North Louisianians. 


41 


When J ules Durieux first found himself amid stran- 
gers, his greatest longing for home was caused by his 
yearning for his beloved mother tongue. 

There was only one French speaking man in the 
neighborhood, and he, a Parisian Jew, had been away 
from his native land so long that he could scarcely carry 
on the simplest conversation without recourse to an 
English word in almost every sentence. One day, how- 
ever, Durieux coming to the house to see Mr. Barrett 
on business, chanced to hear Nellie’s thoroughly Amer- 
ican governess trying to teach the little girl how to read 
French, and involuntarily he broke into a hearty 
laugh, followed by an humble apology. The governess 
was a sensible young woman, fortunately for her young 
charge, as w^ell as herself ; and one to whom self im- 
provement was a matter of constant consideration, so 
instead of feeling indignant at his laughter as Durieux 
feared she would, she joined in it, and asked him to tell 
her wherein lay her mistake. 

‘‘ Simply in your pronunciation Miss,” answered the 
young man, “which is really, if you will pardon me 
for saying so, ludicrous.” Durieux spoke in his best 
French, and the lady simply stared at him for his pains. 
She understood the language thoroughly when it lay 
before her upon a printed page, or when haltingly spo- 
ken by her old teacher at college, but when it came to 
French from the tongue of a Frenchman, it was quite 
another thing, and Durieux disappointedly repeated 
what he had said, in English. 

“Then, my dear sir,” the quick-witted girl retorted, 
“ in charity to me if not to Nellie, you must help me 
to rectify my pronunciation.” 

“ Thanks,” Durieux answered, “ nothing could give 
me more pleasure than to assist you in every way in 
my power.” 

The enterprising governess lost no time in consulting 


42 


Mrs. Barrett about, what seemed to her, a golden oppor- 
tunity, and it soon became an established rule that Mr. 
Durieux should come on certain evenings of each week 
to assist Miss Whitaker and Nellie with the language 
lesson, and from that time the three formed the habit 
of speaking French to each other that was retained by 
Nellie and Durieux after the governess was gone. 

Today, neither Jules nor Nellie were in a talkative 
mood, and they swept on without conversation. Nellie 
had chosen the road toward Lily ditch, partly because 
she wanted to visit the scene of last night’s robbery, 
but more because it was her favorite way. She loved 
the river in all its phases; when it was tremendous 
and powerful, as it was now, spreading a mile wide, or 
when it sulked deep within its banks, cowed and sub- 
missive. There was a little strain of character, too, in 
Nellie Barrett that loved adventure, and she pointed 
out the path on the top of the levee as a delightful place 
to feel that creepy thrill of fear, subjected to her own 
strength and courage, that is so fascinating to youth. 

As they rode to the top of the levee, Durieux allowed 
the girl to precede him, knowing very well that if left 
to her own will, she would choose the side next the 
water. Her horse was sure footed, and he knew that 
she was a fearless rider. As soon as they were well on 
top of the embankment, Nellie started her horse again 
into a brisk gait; regardless of the possibility that a 
false step might send her and her horse head-long down 
the levee into the water on the one side, or failing this, 
rolling down the other slope into the road that was dark 
and slushy from the effects of water that had seeped 
through the embankment, and lay across the roadway 
and edges of the freshly plowed fields. 

The vicious wind of the morning had ceased chopping 
the river’s surface into rough waves, and dashing white 
caps, that broke against each other madly, and now the 


43 


flood of tawny water lay in its usual powerful silence. 
Where the water touched the levee’s side in placid still- 
ness, reflecting every tree and cloud that bent above 
it, there was no hint of the wonderful energy that out 
in the midst, was hurrying huge prostrate logs down 
the current. 

The tender leaflets that were swelling upon every 
willow and cottonwood were too young to relieve the 
sombre coloring of the . view, yet here and there the 
levee’s slope was rejuvenated by patches of clover and 
delicate grass that had sprung above the brown ghosts 
of a former summer, and the peach trees clustered about 
the cabins dotting the fields, glowed pinkly with their 
beautiful blossoms. 

The exercise and crisp river breezes made Miss Bar- 
rett’s eyes sparkle and her cheeks flush. She was not 
a beauty, this fair young Louisianian, although her 
features were regular, and her brune-blonde coloring 
soft and dainty ; yet there were very few who did not 
think her strikingly pretty. She was tall, and as erect 
as one of the slender stalks in her native cane-brake. 
Her eyes were blue, with long black lashes to veil them 
in thoughtfulness or frame them in interest or inquiry. 
Her most charming feature was her mouth ; it was del- 
icately moulded into flexible curves that could form 
into a smile as innocent as an infant’s, and sometimes 
into lines as firm as chiseled marble. Her teeth were 
white and regular, and the whole, suggested a creation 
so pure, and so thoroughly wholesome as to strengthen 
one’s faith in humanity involuntarily. It was just the 
mouth to receive tender reverent kisses, or to utter true 
womanly thoughts. With these attractions she pos- 
sessed two others, that proclaimed her a native of the 
South ; these two, were her melodious voice, and her 
ease of movement that seemed as the grace of a water 
nymph. 


44 


Perhaps one who looked upon her would have said 
that she was spoiled, or vain ; but if she was, she had a 
perfect right to be. For eleven years she was an only 
child and was loved and indulged as an only child is 
likely to be, and when Virgil came, and a year and a 
half later baby Stella, Mr. Barrett never allowed her 
to regret their share in parental affection. As the 
mother’s time and sympathies were more and more 
absorbed in her babies, the father and Nellie seemed by 
mutual consent to drift all the closer to each other, and 
a congeniality developed that increased as the girl grew 
older, and became, with her bright intellect, daily more 
companionable. As to the latter charge, if it ever had 
been made, there was no reason why she should not be 
vain; and it rather added to her merits that she was 
so little so ; for she had been flattered and praised since 
her earliest recollection, and now that she was a young 
lady, and a very interesting one at that, her share of 
compliments was in no wise decreased. 

Jules Durieux came to Englehart to take the position 
of book-keeper and clerk, but his dislike for indoor em- 
ployment, and his love for planting, gradually drew 
him from his desk out into the fields, where Mr. Barrett 
recognizing his talent, encouraged him to cultivate it, 
and the result was that in a year or two he had made 
his way from a subordinate clerk to manager of the 
plantation. He had a great deal to learn about his new 
work at first, for he had had to exchange his native 
fields of sugar cane for those of cotton, and the com- 
plicated sugar-house for the simple gin-house. 

Durieux had lived all his life, except the years spent 
in a New Orleans university, at the old place on the 
shore of one of the many bays that cut the southern 
coast into generous scollops. His great-great-grand- 
father was one of the young men turned adrift, home- 
less, when Grand-Pre was laid in ashes. Perhaps he 


45 


was a friend of Gabriel’s, or perhaps even, one of Evan- 
geline’s lovers; of this Jnles had no proof, but he did 
know personally the gentleman who had told Evan- 
geline’s sad story to the poet and urged him to frame 
it fitly to be handed down to coming generations as a 
reminder of their pathetic coming to the land where 
“Garlands of Spanish moss and of mystic mistletoe 
flaunted.” Durieux had often sat and thought of the 
unfortunate maiden beneath the branches of the same 
giant cedar that had spread in protection, high above 
the sleeping Evangeline as she lay dreaming of the 
lover she had come over such weary miles of land, and 
— “ through net work of lakes and bayous to seek ” — 
dreaming that her lover was near, when, in reality, he 
was drifting past her in the darkness, all unconcious 
of her presence. 

Durieux’ great-great-grandfather acquired wealth af- 
ter he found a new home, and married one of the great- 
est French belles then reigning in infant New Orleans, 
and it was from this union of gold and patrician beauty 
that old Jules Durieux was descended; but the arist- 
ocratic father, and grandfather before him had lived in 
a style that befitted the sons of old Pierre Durieux and 
Heloise de la Boissoneau, and by the time Jules was 
old enough to realize what it meant, he understood 
that the once beautiful home, now needing repairs so 
badly, and the honored name he bore were very nearly 
all that he could rightfully call his own. Neither his 
great-great-grandfather’s money nor his great-great- 
grandmother’s beauty lasted until it reached his gener- 
ation. In appearance he was like his race; a small 
man, active, graceful and dark, with a quick tongue 
and a ready wit spiced with a keen sense of the humor 
in life’s ironies ; and withal, imbued with that strong 
pride which is the aristocratic Franco- Americans most 
marked common characteristic. 


46 


Nellie liked Durieux thoroughly, He was just twice 
her age when she saw him first, and that thirteen years 
difference between them always made her conscious of 
a barrier that separated them somehow, yet, too, gave 
her a right to look up to him as she might have done 
to a brother much older than herself; and he, in turn, 
accustomed to treating her like a child, as he did when 
he first .became acquainted with her and heard her re- 
cite her French lesson, did so often, even yet, and alter- 
nately teased her almost to the verge of tears, or- showed 
her the difference due her young ladyhood; and she, 
taking all his moods as they came, stormed at him in 
impotent rage one day, or appealed to him for his 
opinion of her plans the next, and through it all, ac- 
cepting his friendship as an assured fact and himself 
as a necessary family adjunct, she was as unconscious 
of her strong fondness for him as either Stella or Virgil 
were. Thirty-one always seems such a mature age to 
eighteen, too. 


CHAPTER VI. 

By the time Nellie and her escort dismounted from 
their ride the short day had almost closed, and the 
round moon was disputing possession with the transient 
twilight. The lamps were burning in the parlor, and 
the fire which had been allowed to die down during 
the day to a few coals, had had fresh wood heaped upon 
it, and the flames vied with each other as to which 
should throw the ruddiest light upon the group seated 
about the hearth. Miss Barrett went immediately to 
her room to exchange her ridiug habit for more suitable 
attire, and returning soon, together, Jules Durieux and 
the Barrett family went into the dining-room and seated 
themselves around the table, where supper was spread 
in true Sunday style. There was not a servant on the 
place, and the family ate the repast of cold roast, cold 
biscuit, preserves and milk, supplemented by hot coffee 
that Mrs. Barrett made on a little oil stove, with the 
freedom of congenial friends fearing no listening ear 
or repeating tongue of another social station. 

No one was hungry, for their late dinner did not 
admit of it; but they went through the form of eating 
while in reality talking with far more interest. 

There is no time so favorable for a charming un- 
trammeled flow of reminiscences as the hour around 
the supper table, when the plates are pushed back, the 
napkins rolled away into their rings, and every one 
feeling at liberty to rest an elbow upon the board and 
lean forward to listen or explain. The hostess is en- 
tirely at her ease, knowing that no one is waiting to 
wash the used dishes or for the food that remains. 
The bright light in the centre of the board illumines 
47 


48 


every face and the positions are such that each partici- 
pant in the conversation is within hand clasp of every 
other one. The nearness of persons seems to engender 
the nearness of thought and makes the circle of wit 
more brilliant and complete. 

While the Barretts’ supper table was surrounded by 
its cheerful group, large and small, for Stella and Virgil 
took th^ir part in what was being said and ventured 
an opinion or a narrative, here and there, there was a 
spectator without, watching the changing countenances 
of the happy group within. He could hear no word of 
what was being said, but the pantomime of bright faces 
and jestures was rhetorical with the enjoyment the 
words must be creating. The man stood on the front 
gallery and looked through the open hall door, on 
through the long hall and through the glass paneled 
door, with its curtains drawn aside, into the dining- 
room itself. No detail escaped his quick attention ; 
he noticed the interested faces turned toward Mr. Bar- 
rett, who, with his back to the door, seemed to be tell- 
ing one of the humorous stories of which he had an 
unending supply. 

The man on the gallery saw that Jules Durieux was 
seated directly opposite Miss Barrett and that his eyes 
sought her pretty face oftener than they did any other 
object in the room. He saw Nellie look up and meet 
his glance with a frank smile and that little flash of 
her heavily fringed eyelids that was so charming, and 
unconsciously a frown puckered his handsome brow. 
He placed his hand upon the handle of the door-bell 
and almost lifted it high enough to cause the hammer 
to strike, then dropping his hand he muttered, half 
aloud : 

“ Too bad to break up their merry-making! ” 

Without hesitating again, he entered the hall, hung 
his hat upon one of the hooks of the handsome hat 


49 


rack, and went on toward the dining-room door, the 
carpet making his footfalls noiseless. Softly turning 
the knob of the glass paneled door, he threw it open 
and silently enjoyed the surprise his sudden appearance 
produced. Mrs. Barrett, who sat directly opposite the 
door, was the first to see him, and she exclaimed 
warmly : 

“Dr. Allison! Come in, do. We are just finishing 
supper. Come and have something with us 1 ” 

Mr. Barrett arose and shook hands with the newcomer 
and invited him to take the seat that had been placed 
at the table for absent Mr. Wheeler, but before he ac- 
cepted it. Dr. Allison thanked him and went first to 
shake hands with Mrs. Barrett. He stooped and kissed 
the expectant little faces of his two adorers, Stella and 
Virgil, and at last obtained a clasp of the soft pink 
hand that had drawn him over fourteen miles of rough 
road as easily as a powerful magnet can draw a small 
needle across an inch of space. 

“ I am not hungry, thank you, Mr. Barrett,” averred 
young Allison as that gentleman urged him to partake 
of the roast and other food upon the table. “ I had 
supper before I left home, and really can eat nothing 
more.” He took the cup of coffee that Mrs. Barrett 
poured out for him, however, and the general conversa- 
tion was resumed. 

As Dr. Allison sipped his coffee and joined in the 
talking, he secretly wondered how long Mr. Durieux 
purposed staying beside the Barrett hearthstone. He 
saw no necessity for his lingering now that he had 
finished his supper, yet Durieux seemed to have a great 
deal to say and plenty of time in which to say it. 

How long the group might have sat, oblivious of the 
flight of time, there is no knowing, if Stella had not 
unexpectedly lost consciousness and nodded her head 
almost into her plate . The little girl looked up in dis- 


50 


tress as the laugh went around and almost burst into 
tears, in her embarrassment, when she discerned that 
all eyes were mirthfully bent upon her. Mrs. Barrett 
helped her down from her chair, and led the two young 
folks off to bed, although she and Virgil both stoutly 
declared that they were not sleepy a bit. 

As Mrs. Barrett, with a child at each side, passed by 
Nellie’s chair she said in an undertone : “ Leave the 

table as it is. I will come back and put everything 
away,” but Nellie smiled and shook her head, and 
when Mr. Barrett led the way back to the parlor only 
Dr. Allison followed him. Durieux knew the ways of 
the house, and lingered to assist the girl in her duties. 
Gathering up the scraps, he fed the dog and cats, and 
returning, had the windows closed and the doors locked 
by the time Nellie finished putting away the dishes 
containing the remnants of the repast. 

“Thank you, Mr. Durieux.” she smiled, when all 
was done and Jules picked up the lamp. “ Come now, 
we will join the others.” 

“No, I’m going.” 

“ Why — ” began Nellie, but Durieux’ mischevious 
laugh and suggestive shrug stopped her. 

“ Ah ! ” he cried, flashing a teasing glance at her from 
his dark eyes. “ No,” he went on, more exasperatingly 
than ever, “ I won’t stay to bother /iim.” 

Nellie blushed hotly. Taking the lamp from his 
hand, she darted into her room, calling through her 
laughter as she slammed the door: 

“ Well then, good bye!” 

When she reached the security of her own room, 
she put the lamp down and listened until she heard 
her tormentor open the parlor door and tell her father 
and Dr. Allison goodnight, and waited until she heard 
him go down the front steps; then she straightened 
her features as best she could and tried to powder out 


51 


her blushes, and with no further excuse for remaining 
away, she opened the parlor door and went in. 

Shortly after her entrance, Mr. Barrett reluctantly 
betook himself to his own room and his papers. The 
children had been put to bed and Mrs. Barrett sat be- 
side the lamp-table waiting for him to come, but when 
he entered, contrary to his habit, instead of sitting down 
to talk to her for a while, he picked up a paper, and 
apparently began reading. 

Mrs Barrett sighed softly as she watched her hus- 
band. In the twenty years of her married life, she had 
learned to read that handsome dignified face before 
her as readily as an open book ; but strange, in all that 
time she had never learned to approach the reasoning 
power that lay behind it. Many a time desire had 
prompted her to assay persuasion or argument against 
her husband’s inmost thoughts, but invariably his 
friendly smile disarmed her and her every idea that 
she had meant to issue upon his resolution deserted 
her ignominiously, leaving her helpless before the one 
intellect and will that she acknowledged overwhelm- 
ingly superior to her own. It had never surprised Mr. 
Barrett nor caused him to speculate upon the reason 
why his wife, who was an authority in her social circle 
and a quick and ready wit in debating with others, 
should never venture a second point of argument when 
conflicting with himself. He took her submission, 
always, as a foregone conclusion, and attributed her 
acquiescence to her habitual sweetness of temper. No 
doubt, too, there was a grain of old-fashioned vanity in 
his makeup which left no questioning of man’s superior 
judgment. 

Mrs. Barrett sighed again. There was absolutely 
nothing that she could say. She saw her husband’s 
dislike for Dr. Allison, and saw how hard it was for 
him to conceal it. That one who was innately so 


52 


gentle, so charitable and so just, should take an aversion 
to another who seemed to possess these qualities in as 
marked a degree, was a matter of frequent reviewing 
on her part. Mr. Barrett was always courteous to this 
guest, but he never extended the same cordiality to him 
that he did to other young men who visited the house. 
His politeness was never absent, but it was always dis- 
cernably perfunctory. They had never discussed the 
young man but once, and that was upon an occasion 
when Nellie had gone to a party with him. Miss Bar- 
rett had all the liberties of other girls in her choice of 
gentlemen friends, and her father seldom thought any- 
thing of her coming or going. 

Mrs. Barrett was young and very pretty still, and 
liked to attend balls occasionally, for there she met 
friends from a distance who came for the same purpose 
as herself — to chat with acquaintances and perhaps 
dance a little; and whenever she intimated her inten- 
tion to go, Mr. Barrett cheerfully accompanied her. 
Nellie’s plans were never effected by her mother’s. 
She always had an escort to every entertainment, and 
Mr. Barrett often did not know who her favored friend 
would be until the young gentleman selected drove up 
in his buggy and asked for her. 

The first time Dr. Allison escorted Nellie to a dance, 
Mr. Barrett expressed his displeasure ; Mrs. Barrett was 
surprised, and asked what objection there was to the 
young physician. 

“Well, really,” Mr. Barrett laughingly said, “I have 
no objection to the young man, except that I prefer 
for Nellie to see him as little as possible.” 

“Have you heard anything against his character?” 
next asked Mrs. Barrett. 

“No, I have heard nothing against his character ex- 
cept that Sidney Carroll and Vincent Minor are his 
constant companions. We know nothing,” went on 


53 


Mr. Barrett, “ of him further than that he is in the em- 
ploy of the Lauren’s Land Company.” 

“He seems to me to be a very entertaining young 
man,” Mrs. Barrett urged tentatively, “ quite above the 
average intellectually, judging him by the brief con- 
versations I have had with him. He is very handsome, 
too.” 

Mr. Barrett laughed shortly and frowned. “That 
last is his salient drawback to me,” he said. “ He is 
entirely too handsome and entertaining to an inexperi- 
enced girl like Nellie. Much too handsome — that is 
why I regret so much that he has ever been allowed to 
come to the house. We know absolutely nothing of 
him, and I do not consider him worthy of cultivation. 
These showy young men, brought up for the most 
part in college, usually have very little but their surface 
polish to recommend them. Think, my dear,” he went 
on, with real concern in his voice, “ think what a com- 
plication would result should our daughter fancy that 
she wanted to marry him ? ” 

Mrs. Barrett laughed, but deep in her heart there 
sprang a misgiving. She had scarcely thought of Nellie 
as anything but a child, and as Mr. Barrett spoke there 
flashed the thought that she could rightly no longer 
regard her as such. 

“ Oh well,” said Mrs. Barrett, trying to be reassuring, 
“I think you can safely put aside all fears of Nellie’s 
entertaining such sentiments regarding him. She has 
never shown a preference for any one yet.” 

“ Ah, but there is another side to the picture. Y oung 
Allison’s salary is good, I understand, but you must 
acknowledge that it would be something in a man’s 
favor to marry our daughter. It is this thought that 
makes me doubtful of any lover who may come. I do 
not want the child married for her money nor her 
social prestage. We don’t know what sort of fellow 
this Allison is.” 


54 


If her father doubted his estimate of Dr. Allison’s 
character and motives, Nellie did not doubt her own. 
In the ten months of her acquaintance with him, she 
felt that she knew scarcely anyone better. True to 
that strange perversity that makes a child conceal the 
most important secrets of its life from a parent, Nellie 
had unconsciously begun to hide her intesest in him, 
and as this grew, her involuntary diplomacy made her 
dissemble all the more jealously. That Mr. Durieux 
guessed the true quality of her friendship with Dr. 
Allison was embarrassing enough, but if her mother 
or father were to detect it, she would feel indeed like a 
culprit. To Nellie it seemed reprehensible in a girl if 
she showed a preference for a man who was not her 
affianced lover. 

Dr. Allison paid her unending compliments just as 
all the others did, but she scorned to attach any inter- 
pretation to his words than that they were the amuse- 
ment of a friend, and because she found them the most 
gratifying to her of all she received, she laughed them 
away all the more assiduously. 

As a society man. Dr. Allison was a genius. He was 
graceful and pleasing in figure as well as in face, and 
had an abundance of small talk ever ready at his com- 
mand to fill any emptiness that might occur in a conver- 
sation, and, added to this, he was an excellent listener. 
This last mentioned attraction was no doubt due to 
the fact that he was not a selfish man. He was willing 
that every one, as well as himself, should be happy in 
the little things of life that so often prove a burden to 
misunderstood humanity. No, he was not selfish, 
neither was he lazy ; and he never begrudged doing a 
friend a favor, nor did he often neglect kindly atten- 
tions to a woman, whether she were handsome or 
homely, bewitching or a bore. Then, united with 
these virtues which were so profitable to him as a man 


55 


and as a physician, he had the talent of sympathy. 
If in social relations a tiresome old lady recounted the 
merits of her children or detailed her personal trials or 
triumphs, he never looked wearied, but gratified his 
persecutor with his apparent interest until he could 
escape honorably. 

In his professional career, if it was his duty to cut a 
man’s leg off and he felt no more compunction than in 
dividing so much beef, his patient never suspected him 
guilty of indifference, but ever afterwards regarded him 
with a tender gratitude as a man who could understand 
another’s pain. A supersensitive conscience might de- 
clare such duplicity a sin, but there must be a clause 
somewhere in the Great Code making evasion of this 
nature, though seemingly against the ninth command- 
ment, not only pardonable, but worthy of the angels’ 
recognition. Superfluous flattery is always sinful, but 
that flattery which is neither more nor less than an 
absence of barbarity, and that acts like balm upon a 
heart hungry for sympathy, is a blessed virtue ; blessed 
to him who possesses the nature too gentle to wound 
a fellow being, and blessed to him upon whom the 
soothing influence rests. 

Qualities like these, taken together, and supple- 
mented of course by the man’s handsome face, with 
its peculiarly expressive yellowish eyes, were what 
made every woman who knew him love him. Whether 
the affection lavished upon him was maternal, fraternal, 
Platonic or erotic, it was there always to a greater or 
less degree. 


CHAPTER VIL 


Miss Barrett never doubted in the least that the esti- 
mate she had formulated of Dr. Allison’s character was 
a correct one. After the first few times of meeting, 
when their interviews had consisted of the usual light 
chat and an adroit passage at arms, wherein compli- 
ments were the foils used and laughing repartee the 
cushions that made the thrusts ineflectual, he drifted 
into the habit of talking sensibly to her, elicting her 
quaint, self-formed methods of reasoning that revealed 
a rather well-balanced mixture of womanly sagacity 
and child-like confidence in humanity. 

While Mr. and Mrs. Barrett sat by the fire in another 
room, each silently thinking of the two young persons 
in the parlor, those two were enjoying themselves in a 
manner seemingly so innocent that only one deeply 
versed in the subtle science of courtship would have 
detected signs that were portentous. 

Wooing is and always will be the most interesting 
form of warfare in the world. Often it proceeds along 
the lines which Dr. Allison had chosen to pursue, 
where no guile is used and the highest, purest senti- 
ments are attacked. Often it is like a campaign in- 
volving a trio of countries; the besieging, the besieged 
and a disinterested spectator. The latter is generally 
the line of action pursued by the man who is not tak- 
ing his initial taste of Eros’ shafts, and who further- 
more knows that the besieged is a fortress not subjected 
to its first bombardment. The general of the besieging 
empire opens the maneuver in attracting the attention 
of the empire to be captured by discharging a volley 
of small ammunition upon the unsuspecting third 


57 


kingdom, winning the esteem of the coveted empire 
by calling attention to the nobility and honesty of his 
purpose; showing forth unlimited reasons why the 
third party should capitulate. He calls upon the ob- 
ject of his cupidity for advice and arbitration, secretly 
sending out scouts in the meantime to discover every 
weak point in her citadel or to find where her strongest 
guns are pointed ; then, suddenly wheeling his forces, 
with every power nerved to the attack bears down 
upon the empire he designed in the first instance to 
capture, and behold, the day is won. The besieged 
empire pulls down her colors, and the conqueror’s flag 
floats proudly aloft. 

Dr. Allison had brought some photographs to show 
Nellie, and, as he had often done before, he was talking 
to her of his mother and sisters. He sat in a comfort- 
able rocking chair opposite the one she was in, and 
these were placed so that when each leaned back, as 
one is supposed to do in such chairs, their two young 
heads were quite half the distance of the room apart ; 
but when he brought his handsome head forward, as he 
often did, to point out some particular feature of one 
of the photographs that she held in her lap, and she, 
in interest, leaned forward to examine the peculiarity 
he was describing, his eyes, that were more like splen- 
did topazes than anything they could be likened to, 
looked up through their dusky fringes into soft blue 
eyes near enough to make them droop their fluttering 
white wings and hide tell-tale lights from view. 

Nellie took up a picture — the one that to her possessed 
most interest of all, and looked at it closely again. It 
was the photograph of a still handsome woman of per- 
haps fifty, and she noticed in it a strong resemblance 
to the living face before her. Allison was pleased that 
she turned oftenest to this one and looked at it so in- 
tently. 


58 


“She was a great beauty in her youth,” he said, 
“judging by the praises I hear from her friends who 
knew her then.” He went on gaily : “ And this re- 
minds me of sister’s and Mamie’s constant source of 
annoyance. Both of the girls, as you can see by their 
pictures, are just as pretty as they need be, and they 
naturally like to have credit for what good looks they 
possess ; so I suppose they have a right to feel indig- 
nant when some old friend of mother’s meets them for 
the first time and exclaims in amazement : ‘ Sybil Al- 
lison’s daughter — can this be Sybil’s daughter! Why 
you don’t look a bit like your mother — she was a 
beautiful girl 1 ’ ” 

Nellie laughed heartily at the inimitably funny way 
in which Allison mocked the voice and manner of his 
mother’s tactless flatterers. 

“ The girls have heard this thing so often,” he added, 
“that they almost run as soon as any one announces 
an old friend of mother’s.” 

“Your sisters are pretty,” Nellie commented, thought- 
fully, taking up their likenesses again, “ but they really 
do not look like your mother at all. There is not the 
strong resemblance in theirs that there is in your face 
to the picture.” Nellie had no sooner uttered the 
words than their purport flashed upon her. She looked 
up hurriedly and meeting her caller’s merry glance, 
she colored hotly. 

“ Thank you ! ” Allison said with sparkling eyes. “ I 
shall write and tell the girls that one of us looks like 
mother, anyway.” 

Nellie laughed in spite of her vexation, and Allison, 
quick to see that she did not enjoy his joke, changed 
into seriousness, and said feelingly : 

“ Her beauty is not mother’s only charm. She is 
without doubt the dearest, sweetest mother that ever 
lived. No one ever was to a boy what she has been to 


59 


me. She has sacrificed many a comfort that I might 
have an education and study father’s profession.” He 
was thoughtful for some moments, and then said: 
“ That is why I am at Lauren’s Station. It is a means 
to an end, and as such I must stick to it. I must help 
mother now, for she had to sell a good deal of her 
property to pay my university expenses.” 

“ It is good of you to stay at Lauren’s with that ob- 
ject in view,” the girl said approvingly. “ I often 
wonder if you are not dreadfully lonely out there.” 

Allison caught at Nellie’s words delightedly. She 
often wondered if he were not lonely.” It would have 
been a dreary place, indeed, that would not have been 
made elysian by the knowledge that she often thought 
of him. His spirits rose, and he answered cheerily : 

“ Oh, it isn’t such a bad place after all. Carroll, you 
know, with all his faults, is such a jolly, good-natured 
fellow, that he could entertain a mummy, much less 
one who is anxious to be amused. All three of us are 
fond of reading, and then there is the hunting and 
fishing. We hunt almost every day in the winter and 
fish throughout the lazy summer time.” 

‘‘ But how do you manage that ? The winter is their 
busiest time and the summer yours — how do you keep 
each other company, then ?” 

“ The days are long enough in summer for me to see 
all my patients and loaf too; and in cold weather, 
when there is scarcely any sickness, I help the boys in 
the store or on their booKs, and that lets one or both of 
them ofi* for an hour or two with me. Then, one of 
my greatest pleasures is my regular letter from mother 
or one of the girls.” 

“ ‘ The girls,’ ” interposed Nellie, quick to take advan- 
tage of him and wreak her vengeance upon him for his 
teasing of a few moments before, “‘the girls,’ always 
being understood to mean your sisters, of course.” 


60 


‘‘ Now, I didn’t expressly say so,” laughed Allison, 
blushing slightly. “ You see, I have several pretty 
cousins.” 

“ Yes, I see,” said Nellie demurely. “ Tell me some- 
thing of your cousins, too.” 

“ Gladly,” assented Allison, not to be outwitted, 
“ and you will let me bring you their pictures to see 
also ? There is one in particular whom I know you 
would like — just the happiest, best tempered girl you 
ever saw ! ” 

Allison went on to describe the girl he was thinking 
of and to tell some of her bright sayings. He was in 
the midst of relating an account of one of the many 
pranks she delighted in playing, when the clock in the 
hall deliberately struck ten. Allison paused, glanced 
at Nellie with his head tilted to one side, and listened 
until the last stroke rang out; then, springing to his 
feet, he held out his hand and said dolefully : 

“Good night!” 

Nellie arose too, and placing her hand in his, laugh- 
ingly asked : 

“ Won’t you finish what you were saying?” 

He shook his head solemnly. “ No, this narrative 
is destined to be a serial.” 

Both laughed with the light-heartedness of well 
poised youth when stimulated by intercourse with the 
opposite sex, and Dr. Allison took his departure. 


CHAPTER VIII. 


“ Mother, this is the last week in August, and you 
know you said we ought to put up some more preserves 
before the peaches are all gone.” 

“Yes,” Mrs. Barrett answered, “ I have been thinking 
about it, yet I really don’t see what we are to do. All 
last week Lillie was sick, and now this is Tuesday, the 
tournament and ball are to take place one week from 
tomorrow; your dress is only just begun, and besides, 
there are the cakes to be made for the ball supper.” 

“Still,” said Nellie, pausing for a moment to think, 
“the peaches cannot be put oft any easier than the 
tournament. If we don’t cook them within the next 
day or two, there will be none left to preserve. Couldn’t 
you work on the dress by yourself today, and let me 
make the preserves?” 

“Yes, I could, very well; but you must remember 
that you promised to go with Carrie and Ruth to see 
the Gun Club practice this evening.” 

“Yes, so I did,” mused the girl, trying to map out a 
plan by which she could accomplish all that she wanted 
to do, within the limited space of time left to her. 
“ Well,” she finally concluded, “I will try to do it any 
way. I think I can be through with the fruit by five 
o’clock, and then can get ready quickly, and go with 
the girls to see the practice, too.” 

She arose from her place at the breakfast table, where 
she had lingered to talk to her mother, after the other 
members of the family had gone, and went cheerily to 
her room to clean it up and put everything to rights, 
by the time Allen should have gathered the peaches. 
Virgil and Stella caught sight of the young darkey as 
61 


I 


he passed through the yard with step-ladder and bas- 
kets, and they ran to join him in the orchard to help 
him pick up the peaches, and meanwhile help them- 
selves to all that they needed for individual purposes. 

Virgil was under the impression that he was quite a 
man, himself. His seventh birthday had passed long 
ago, it seemed to him, and he was counting the months 
that must come before he would be eight. He was his fa- 
ther’s only boy, and that knowledge carried great weight 
with it, united with the fact that he had been wearing 
trousers for almost four years. He and Stella were re- 
markably good children, and their devotion to each other 
was a sentiment that did one good to watch. No newly 
betrothed couple was ever so absorbed in each other’s so- 
ciety, or more thoroughly soul-satisfying within itself 
than this little pair of individuals. When they were 
together the world was so filled that there was not room 
enough to admit of a third person comfortably. This ob- 
livion of their contemporaries, leaving them solely to the 
companionship of each other, their parents and sister, 
made them unlike other children, inasmuch as their 
babyish ways were soon shed, and they assumed the 
thoughtful, reasoning habits of their elders. It was Vir- 
gil’s delight to use the biggest words that his keen little 
memory could grasp, and Stella, making it her pride to 
do whatever “ brozzer ” did, the two had a command of 
the English language that would have done credit to a 
college youth. The parrot-like peculiarities of child- 
hood had added a good deal of French, gleaned from 
Durieux’ and Nellie’s conversation, to their vocabulary 
too, and this acquirement they never tired of ventila- 
ting in Allen’s and Lillie’s presence for the servants’ 
mystification. It was a source of annoyance to the 
children that the two household darkies spoke so incor- 
rectly, and often the latter would exagerate their pro- 
nounciation and choice of words for the fun of hearing 


63 


the rebuke and contemptuous correction that the young 
philologists were sure to administer. 

By the time Nellie had her room adjusted into its 
accustomed neatness, Allen and the children returned 
from the orchard, bringing two large baskets full of fruit, 
which were deposited on the gallery extending along 
the dining-room and kitchen. As Nellie came out and 
inspected the peaches, Virgil graciously asked: 

“ Sister, do you want Stella and me to help you 
peel?” 

Nellie smiled covertly. She had seen some of their 
fruit paring operations, and knew that the process as 
practiced by their small hands left very little more 
than the seed. 

“ No, thank you, I think I can manage with Lillie’s 
assistance, hut if I find that I need you, I shall call 
you.” 

“ All right then. Come Stella, let’s go see if my red 
cactus is open yet,” and away the two little bundles of 
energy dashed, singing gaily as they went. 

Nellie busied herself getting ready for her day’s work. 
She was an expert preserve-maker and took great pride 
in the fine quality and flavor of her product. 

“ Allen,” she said as she turned her sleeves back from 
her wrists, “ go into my room and get my small rocking- 
chair, and Lillie, you bring me a waiter for the peelings, 
and also the preserve kettle. Mind now, that you have 
it perfectly clean.” 

Nellie went into the dining-room for a knife, and the 
two darkies hastened to do her bidding ; when she re- 
turned, the chair and other things awaited her. She 
seated herself and directed Allen to place a basket of 
peaches on a low box beside her, that she could reach 
the fruit without trouble, and spreading her big check 
apron carefully over her prettj^ white morning dress, 
she began her monotonous cutting. 


64 


“ Come Lillie,” she called, come and help me get 
the peaches ready, and Allen can finish washing up the 
breakfast things.” 

Lillie came, cheerful and smiling, always, and seated 
herself upon a box near one of the baskets. She was 
very little older than Miss Barrett, and she looked up 
to that young lady as a paragon of beauty and perfec- 
tion. Lillie could hardly recollect a time when she had 
not ‘^been around white folks.” She had changed 
homes with the habitual restlessness of her race, but 
she was so well satisfied with her home at the Barretts, 
that she had announced her intention to remain with 
the family as long as she lived. She was a fine type of 
healthy youth, with a complexion dark and glossy as 
sealskin. She had wide-awake black eyes and thick 
pinkish grey lips that seldom closed over her white 
teeth unless there was absolutely no one available to 
talk to. 

Nellie had never seen the colored girl angry in all 
the time she had known her, nor ever worried about 
anything, great or small, except upon the occasion when 
her little child had an attack of fever, accompanied by 
convulsions. If Lillie regarded Nellie as the quintes- 
sence of perfection generally, Nellie in return, consid- 
ered her the personification of amiability. 

The light-hearted colored girl not only never got 
angry herself, but she never allowed anyone to become 
angry with her. Her’s was always the soft answer that 
turned away wrath, and sent Mrs. Barrett away relent- 
ing, no matter how flagrantly untidy the kitchen was 
found, nor even if one of her finest napkins had been 
used as a hastily improvised dish-rag. 

Lillie never did seem to have meant to do wrong, 
and her patience and humility were such salient char- 
acteristics that her short-comings and sins of omission 
seemed pardonable, simply because they were hers. 


65 


Like every member of her race, Lillie was a lively 
talker, loving to give voice to her ideas better than al- 
most anything else on earth, and if Nellie would but 
listen to her sometimes, her happiness seemed complete. 

She had no sooner seated herself and picked up a 
knife and a peach, than for want of something more 
original to say, she exclaimed : 

“My, but ain’t these peaches fine! They reminds 
me of when I used to stay at Mis’ Belle’s. She had the 
biggest kind of a orchard, but she never had no such 
fruit as this here.” 

Nellie paid no attention to what Lillie was saying, 
and for some time both applied themseves silently. 

“ Miss Nellie,” asked the girl, “ why don’d you make 
Allen peel some of these peaches ; he can finish what 
little cleanin’ up there is while they’s on boiling? 
Allen, you Allen!” she called before Nellie had time 
to state her wishes in the case one way or another. 
“ Allen, Miss Nellie wants you ! ” 

Allen came forward and Nellie without appearing to 
notice the colored girl’s little ruse, gave her commands : 

“Take some of the peaches to the kitchen, Allen, 
and peel them ; I am in the biggest kind of hurry, and 
want to get them on the stove.” 

Allen did as he was told, and Lillie tried again to at- 
tract Nellie’s attention, but the young lady had her 
own pleasant reflections for entertainment that crowded 
out recognition of her loquacious admirer, and there 
was silence for half an hour. Silence, if nature’s bed- 
lam of sounds can be called by that term. Bees were 
droning over their work in the great Marechal Neil 
rose that covered the outer side of the gallery; an en- 
ergetic hen, accompanied by her brood was discussing 
the palatable morsels obtained by the interesting exer- 
tion of a well-directed scratch ; a few lazy mosquitoes 
were dreamily practicing their crescendos, and a saucy 


66 


fly with a hateful buzz, persisted in descending upon 
Nellie’s hand; a bob-white was calling to his mate 
down by the bayou; a mocking-bird in the mimosa 
tree was carrolling with all his might, and a redbird 
called his “ Theodore ” merrily, despite the widowed 
dove in the distant canebrake, who moaned out his 
aching heart. There was silence, if this be it, but 
where is silence between the hours of dawn and mid- 
night in this land of bird and insect life, where each is 
blessed with vocal sounds to express the joy of living? 

Nellie’s thoughts were suddenly brought back to the 
present moment by an outburst from Lillie. 

‘‘Well sir! What you reckon ’s up now?” She 
dropped her voice a little lower and went on. “ What 
do that nigger want around here, I wonder ? ” 

Nellie looked up and wondered too. At the back 
gate, a young colored man was dismounting from a fine, 
well groomed horse, and preparing to hitch the animal 
to the fence. As the man advanced, it was seen that 
his person was as well cared for as his steed. His clo- 
thing was neat and well fitting, and revealed a spotless 
shirt-front and collar, ornamented with a pretty four- 
in-hand tie. He carried a small satchel swinging from 
his shoulder by a strap of a dark tan hue that matched 
his complexion harmoniously. As he drew nearer, 
Nellie recognized him as the son of a very well-to-do, 
and highly esteemed negro of the neighborhood. She 
had never spoken to the young man except in return- 
ing his courteous salute in passing on the road, nor had 
she ever heard his first name mentioned, that she could 
recall, and she was somewhat curious to know his rea- 
sons for coming to the house. 

As the darkey came up the steps, he lifted his hat 
and bowed with a grace that would have sat well upon 
a man of more pretentious rearing, then hesitated, 
stroking his short curly moustache unconciously, in 


67 


his partial embarrassment. Nellie waited a moment 
for him to speak and asked kindly : 

“ Do you wish to see my father, Bishop — I believe 
your name is Bishop, isn’t it ? ” 

“ Yes’m, Bishop is my name — Junius Bishop,” he re- 
turned, bowing low again. “ No’m, I doesn’t wish to 
see Mr. Barrett, Miss. I have called on the contents of 
showing you a attachment for a sewin’ machine, mam, 
that is pronounced a great assistance in the runnin’ of 
the machine, makin’ it much more — a — easier for to 
propel.” 

Nellie did not speak, and he went on in the same 
pompous strain. 

“ I am the onliest one in this neighborhood — a — rep- 
resentin’ the agency, and I would like very much to 
showit to you or to Mrs. Barrett — a — because I feels very 
concious, mam, that you will want to purchase one when 
you sees how much lighter it makes the machine run.” 
He stroked his moustache again and looked inquiringly 
at the young lady. 

“ Well, you see. Bishop, I am very busy this morning, 
and really have no time to spare.” 

“Yes’m, I observe you is, but if you could give me 
a few moments of your valuable time, — it wouldn’t 
take me long to show it.” 

Nellie looked keenly at the darkey to see if his allu- 
sion to her ‘valuable time’ was meant as sarcasm, but 
although he was evidently filled with the consciouness 
of his own importance, his demeanor was respectful, 
and she allowed him the the benefit of the doubt. 

“ A good many of the white ladies,” Bishop resumed, 
“ has tried ’em, and they all indorses ’em as bein’ a 
great improvement. Won’t you let me show you how 
you manipulates it?” 

Nellie was amused, and little vexed too. The darkey’s 
way of speaking was so patronizing that it was ludi- 


68 


crous while it irritated, and she hesitated between her 
resentment at his manners, and her curiosity in this 
hitherto untried interview with colored aristocracy. 
Her first thought was to send him about his business, 
as she felt his half-impudence merited, but his self 
esteem was so evident that it became contagious, and 
finally old mother Eve’s distinguishing characteristic 
prevailed. She, who had lived in contact with negroes 
from the time when her black nurse rocked her to sleep 
in her arms, up to the present time, had never before 
seen a negro in the capacity of “ agent.” She had 
bought many articles from many negroes, such as pe- 
cans, persimmons, birds and berries; but those who 
brought things to sell, never came with so much display 
of erudition and fashion as this salesman before her. 
She knew that young Bishop was a school teacher on 
one of the large plantations near, and that knowledge 
whetted her interest in the fellow’s pretentions. 

Nellie arose and smiled as she caught herself instinc- 
tively taking ofi* her work-apron. As Bishop saw that 
Miss Barrett meant to let him show her his goods, he 
laid his derby, which he had been holding in his hand 
while he talked, upon the floor, and took the satchel 
from his shoulder. 

Nellie led the way into Mrs. Barrett’s room, to the 
machine, and rather enjoyed her mother’s surprise at 
seeing the young “ collud gentman ” ushered into her 
presence. Mrs. Barrett was sitting near the bed sur- 
rounded by the confusion of silk and pleated chifion 
that she was converting into a ball dress for Nellie. 

“ Mother, this is Junius Bishop. He wishes to show 
us a sewing machine attachment that he has taken the 
agency for.” 

Nellie announced his entrance with so much serious- 
ness that Bishop’s figure increased preceptibly, and his 
manner became more dignified and gracious than be- 


69 


fore. Mrs. Barrett nodded pleasantly, and Junius again 
displayed his Chesterfieldian accomplishments. He 
took his implements from his satchel and proceeded to 
adjust the spring he wished to sell, to the sewing ma- 
chine standing near an open window. 

Nellie was watching his movements and listening to 
his incessant flow of explanations when she heard a 
stiffled giggle behind her, and turned around to find 
Lillie standing there beaming with delighted curiosity i 
Nellie frowned to make her stop laughing, and the girl 
hastily quitted the room to avoid an open explosion of 
mirth. Lillie could not deny herself, however, the 
pleasure of seeing what was going on, and as soon as 
she could finish telling Allen what “that dude nigger” 
was doing, she returned with a painfully sobered 
countenance, and wisely avoided meeting her young 
mistress’ eye again. Bishop ignored the brunette’s 
presence as entirely as he did the kitten on the rug, 
and continued extoling the merits of his wares. 

“ You see now, mam, that’s the way you adjusses it. 
Then you starts the machine — a — and when the wheel 
begins to revolutin’ good, it takes very much less zer- 
tion — a — for to propel the machine — a — don’t you 
know ? All you has to do is to press down with the 
heel and the attachment draws it up again itself.” 
Bishop emphasized his sentences with elaborate jes- 
tures and frequent little affected gasps, which aug- 
mented his patronizing tones almost beyond Nellie’s 
endurance; causing her to battle inwardly between 
her risibles and resentment. 

“ Won’t you please — a — just try it yourself now, 
Miss?” 

“ Get me a chair, Lillie.” Lillie placed a chair before 
the machine, and Nellie, seating herself, started the 
wheels to running. 


5 


70 


“ Doesn’t you find it a great improvement. Miss Bar^ 
rett?” questioned the agent. 

“Well really, I do not detect any difference at all, 
scarcely.” 

Bishop stepped back and assumed a pose of extreme 
surprise. “Why! I am astonished! All the white 
ladies who has tried ’em pronounces ’em a great advan- 
tage.” . 

Nellie arose from her chair, concealing her indigna- 
tion. It was something of a novelty to her to have 
her veracity questioned, much less to have it doubted 
by a pompous negro. 

“You can take the attachment ofiT,” she said tersely. 
“ I cannot waste any more time.” 

Bishop looked at her in helpless disappointment, and 
her heart softened. Perhaps, after all, she reflected, he 
had not meant to be impertinent. She watched him 
as he slowly began to unscrew the affair, his prolific 
tongue silent at last. 

“ Mother, shall we let him leave it on ? ” 

“Just as you wish about it; how much does it cost?” 

“Only fifty cents. Madam,” bowed Junius, his face 
brightening. 

“ Leave it on then, I will take it.” Nellie procured 
the necessary amount, and handed it to him. 


, CHAPTER IX. 

Nellie returned immediately to her work, followed 
by Lillie, and as soon as young Bishop and his hand- 
some horse were out of sight the colored girl’s broad 
smiles defied all further suppression and burst into a 
paroxysm of giggling. 

What is that boy goin’ to git at next, I wonder! ” 
she exclaimed in the midst of her mirth. “ Looks like 
he can think of more things to git into than the law 
allows. All last year he was peddlin’ books — good 
books too, what I got to leave with you, and when his 
school closed he got him a picture tent and went to 
drawin’ folkses pictures.” 

‘‘ How did he draw pictures? ” 

‘‘Oh, he had a regular cameo — one of them boxes 
what you look through.” 

Were his pictures good ? ” 

“Well, yes’m,” said Lillie meditatively. “They 
looked like you, but they was too dark. He couldn’t 
make no kind ’ceptin’ them tin pictures, you know.” 

Lillie lost herself in retrospection for a few moments 
and worked on industriously all the while, but she 
could not restrain herself long at a time and soon took 
up giggling again, followed by more chatter. 

“ Miss Nellie, you’d a died laughin’ if you had been 
at the picnic last — no, twas Sat’day before last — at the 
picnic what Junius’ pa gave. I never had so much fun 
before in all my life. Me and Allen both was tickled,” 
she laughed at the recollection. “ You see, most all 
these here girls is trying to set up to Junius ’cause his 
pa’s rich ; but there was two girls in particular, the ‘ two 
Annies’ we calls ’em, what made theirselves plumb 
71 


72 


redicalus about him. ’Twas Anna Wells and Anna 
White.” Lillie had to stop to laugh and then contin- 
ued talking, with her habitual ripple of laughter 
throughout what she said. “Yes sir! the two Annies 
they just tried theyselves courtin’ Junius through his 
little sister Blanchie. You know Junius got a sister 
about ten years old, and her ma had her at the picnic, 
dressed *fit to kill, in white organdy trimmed up in lace 
and pink ribbons. Oh, she had on a ‘ dike ’ I tell you, 
and she looked nice, too ; and first Annie White would 
take Blanchie up and treat her to lemonade, and then 
Annie Wells would carry her off and buy her ice cream 
and cake. I tell you, Blanchie had a good time once 
in her life, but its a wouder they didn’t kill her.” 

Nellie heard a smothered echo of Lillie’s laughter in 
the direction of the kitchen, and knew that Allen was 
there, an interested Listener. 

“ Yes sir, I tell you, Blanchie was ‘ in town ’ ! Miss 
Nellie, did you ever see Bishop’s wife?” 

“ No. Watch out there, Lillie, you left some pealing 
on that peach you just dropped. You must' be careful.” 

“Yes’m, I will.” Lillie attended to the peach in 
question and went on talking. “ She sho is a lucky 
woman. She’s been had two rich husband’s now. She 
had a husband over in Mississippi what was well to do, 
and he died and then she come over here and married 
David Bishop. Her first husband had a store over near 
Rockville.” 

“ Get me another pan, Lillie, this is too full.” 

Going for the other pan did not break the thread of 
Miss Alexander’s reminiscences. As soon as she was 
again seated she resumed. “Dave Bishop is a good 
man, too.” 

“Yes,” assented Nellie, “I hear every one speak 
highly of him. He has nice manners, too.” 

“ He sho has. He ain’t biggity with ’em either. He 


73 


don’t put on a bit of airs — nothing like what his son 
does.” Lillie went off into a fit of laughing at recol- 
lections of the agent’s pompousness. 

“ His son is young yet, and will most likely settle 
down and be more sensible as he grows older.” 

“ Well, I trust so. His pa treats everybody well, 
rich and poor alike, that’s why people likes to work 
for him. He’s got people with him now what’s been 
his hands seven years. My Lawd, when Bishop rented 
Erin plantation all by hisself, the people just crowded 
there so he had to turn some of ’em off. They got to 
liking him when he lived on Captain Barringer’s place 
and helped him to manage.” 

There was a restful pause. 

“We are almost done now, Lillie. I’ll leave you to 
finish while I begin to weigh the fruit and sugar.” 
Nellie began to clean the stain, left by the action of the 
acid and steel, from her fingers with the fleshy side of 
a piece of peach skin, and Lillie embraced the chance 
left by the few moments in sight. 

“ Bishop’s goin’ to give another picnic Sat’day after 
next, and is goin’ to have his flyin’ horses and a band 
of music, same as usual.” 

Nellie laughed. “ And ‘ same as usual ’ you want to 
go, and leave us to make out on a cold dinner.” 

“ Now, Miss Nellie — ” protested the girl deprecatingly. 
“ I pintedly does want to go, sho ; but I’m scared Mrs. 
Barrett wouldn’t let me off two Sat’days in one month. 
I was studyin’ ’bout I could get an early dinner if she 
didn’t mind, and have all the fun I want at the picnic 
too. That ain’t what’s troublin’ me, though,” Lillie 
giggled. “ What I wants is I wants your blue challie 
to wear to it — the one you said you might be willin’ 
to sell.” 

Nellie picked up one of the pans. “ Oh, that’s it, is 
it? Well, we’ll discuss that later,” she laughed, mov- 


74 


ing towards the pantry door. She had only gone a 
few steps though, when her progress was arrested by 
another one of her serving-maid’s sudden outbursts of 
surprise. 

“ Well, sir! Now who all is this?” 

Nellie turned and saw the figure of a second dis- 
mounting darkey, differing in personal appearance 
from the other as much as two animals of the same 
genus well could. When he had hitched his mule to 
the fence, he opened the back gate and sauntered in, 
swinging his hands idly at his sides. Reaching the 
edge of the gallery, he stopped short, and clutching 
his shapeless old hat by the top, he held it long enough 
to withdraw his head, nod, and thrust it into its cover- 
ing again ; then, with the same hand, he deftly drew a 
note from his left sleeve and extended it toward Lillie. 
Lillie put her knife aud pan down and walked to the 
edge of the gallery where the man had deposited his 
arm with an air of entire repose that would have done 
Delsarte’s heart good to behold. She took the note 
gingerly by one corner, so as not to soil it with her 
juicy fingers and carried it to the young lady for whom 
it was intended. 

Nellie placed her pan on a table and opened the mis- 
sive, a little fine line forming between her eye-brows, 
and growing deeper as she read. She read it through 
twice, then returned it to its envelope, and started to- 
ward her room, pausing in the hall door long enough 
to say to its bearer : 

“ Wait.” 

Instead of going straight to her own room, however, 
she went first to her mother’s and handed the note to 
her, sinking into a chair near by to wait until she had 
read it. It took Mrs. Barrett but a moment to learn 
the contents of the brief communication, and she 
looked up inquiringly ; but she failed to meet her 


75 


daughter’s eyes, for Nellie had her head bent forward, 
and was thoughtfully gathering the hem of her apron 
into a ruffle with a pin. 

“ Have you answered it?” 

Nellie laughed shortly. “ No’m, not yet.” 

“You will accept, I suppose,” Mrs. Barrett said in- 
differently, as though dismisssng an unimportant mat- 
ter, but she clearh^ saw that something was wrong. 
“ Don’t you want to go with him ? ” 

“ Ye-es,” drawled NeBie, “ I guess I would as soon go 
with him as with any one else; but — ” 

“ But what ? ” 

Nellie laughed again and blushed rosily. “Oh, 
nothing. Only 1 wish he hadn’t asked me so soon.” 

“Soon, why you almost always receive offers of es- 
cort as soon as the invitations are issued.” 

Nellie was silent for a while. “ It’s too bad that a 
girl can’t get all her offers at one time, and then take 
her choice,” she exclaimed ruefully, 

Mrs. Barrett laughed. “Um, there’s the rub, is it?” 

“ Mother, what would you do in my place?” asked 
Nellie seriously. 

“Well,” deliberated Mrs. Barrett mockingly, “you 
see, this is a very weighty matter — ” 

“Oh mother! What makes you always ready to 
tease me? Whenever I come to you like this, you 
always turn everything into a joke.” 

The girl’s sensitive nature was wounded almost to 
the verge of tears, and as usual she proudly choked 
them back and shrank behind a shield of indifference. 
Mrs. Barrett was trying the effect of a certain waist 
decoration, and scarcely noticed when Nellie took the 
note up from where she had allowed it to slip from her 
lap to the floor, and went into her own room to answer 
it. 

As soon at Nellie settled the question by replying to 


76 


Jules Durieux in the affirmative, she again hastened 
back to the regions of the kitchen and becoming ab- 
sorbed in watching the contents of her kettles, she dis- 
missed the matter from her mind. 

In the afternoon, when the preserves were cooked to 
perfection and Nellie was filling the last jar with the 
scalding stuff, a third negro rode up to the back gate 
and another note was given to Lillie. Lillie was so ac- 
customed to handling notes that passed from messen- 
gers to her young mistress that she thought nothing of 
the fact, except to boast to the other servants of the 
neighborhood of how much attention her Miss Nellie 
had and how often she had more company than she 
knew what to do with. 

This time the penmanship upon the envelope brought 
a deeper glow into Nellie’s cheeks than even the heat 
of the stove had done, and a brighter light shown in 
her sweet blue eyes. 

“ Lay the note there, Lillie, and tell the man he 
must wait,” she said. “ I can’t stop now.” She screwed 
the last top upon its jar carefully; set the hot thing on 
the table with its mates, and then read her note. As 
before, she took the note to her mother^ and offered it 
to her, unfolded, saying with a tinge of 'defiance : 

“ Now, you see ?” 

Mrs. Barrett folded the sheet and handed it back 
gently. 

“ Oh well, dear.” she said soothingly, what does it 
matter. You will enjoy yourself quite as well with 
Mr. Durieux, and really I did not think that Dr. Alli- 
son would undertake to come for you, when it is more 
than twice as far from Lauren’s to Asola by way of 
Sigma than it is through by the railroad. It looks un- 
reasonable,” she went on, “ for a man to go to a ball by 
a road twenty-two miles long, when he can get there 
by one only eight.” 


77 


Nellie had her doubts as to Mr. Durieux proving as 
interesting an escort as Dr. Allison, and as for the dis- 
tance to be gone over, youth seldom reflects upon the 
unreasonableness of a plan when pleasure is the stake 
played for ; still, there was nothing for her to do now 
but to write an answer to Dr. Allison and tell him that 
a previous engagement prevented her accompanying 
him to the grand tournament and ball at Asola on the 
6th. 

There was a big crumb of comfort left her, even in 
her disappointment, and this stimulated her delight- 
fully. Dr. Allison’s note was dated “Sigma, August 
29th, 3 p. M.” and this was as good an announcement 
as if a courier had proclaimed upon a brazen trumpet 
that Dr. Allison was in her vicinity and would see her 
in a few hours where the Gun Club met to practice. 

Nellie had plenty of time after she finished preserv- 
ing, to rest a quarter of an hour and then dress for the 
engagement she had made with her two girl friends. 

Ruth and Carrie did not wait for the Barrett carriage 
to be sent for them, but came around to Nellie’s as 
soon as they were ready, and sat in Mrs. Barrett’s room, 
talking of the all absorbing topics, the tournament, 
the ball, and their respective dresses, while Nellie put 
on her hat and gloves. 

The two girls had gone into raptures over the ma- 
terials for Nellie’s toilette, and Ruth was exclaiming 
for the fourth time that she knew it would be the love- 
liest thing in the house that night, when Virgil and 
Stella dashed into the room in a whirl of laughter, 
stumbling against each other as they came and finally 
throwing themselves down upon the floor in an aban- 
donment of mirth. Every one in the room laughed in 
sympathy with the two little chaps, and Carrie, who 
was nearest to Stella, caught her up in her arms and 
kissed her. 


78 


“ Do tell us what’s so funny,” she cried, “ and then 
we can laugh too.” 

“Oh, we can’t!” declared Virgil. “We promised 
Lillie not to give her away, didn’t we sister Stella?” 

“ What on earth is Lillie up to now ! ” demanded 
Nellie, tying her veil. 

“ Stella, let’s tell ? ” 

“ But Birg, we pomised not to.” 

“Well now, you know she didn’t mean we shouldn’t 
tell mother,” he said persuasively. 

Both children laughed again and the girls fell to 
coaxing their secret from them. 

“Now, if I tell,” began the boy,” you must promise 
not to give Lillie away?” 

“ All right, we won’t,” the three promised. 

Virgil jumped to his feet and shoved his hands down 
in his pockets. He hesitated, glanced at Stella, who 
clapped her hands over her mouth to keep from laugh- 
ing; after laughing again himself, he began: 

“Well, you know old Unc’ Bednigo always brings 
his bucket along when he comes here to help Allen 
work in the garden — ” 

— “ To take tome of his dinner back to de chillun,” 
interrupted Stell, giggling. 

— “And after he had eatin’ his dinner, and put his 
bucket on the shelf where he could get it when he’s 
ready to go home, Lillie slipped it, and emptied all he 
had saved, out — ” 

— “ And put a hick-hat^ wapped in paper, in it 1 ” 
chimed Stella, clapping hands and dancing about. 

“ What you reckon Unc’ Bednigo is going to think 
when he gets home and looks into his bucket ? ” 
chuckled the boy, cutting a pigeon-wing. 

“ Lillie says she bets he’ll want to whip her,” said 
Stella with a mischievous smile. 

“Well, I think he ought,” laughed Nellie. “That 


79 


was a real mean trick of Lillie’s, and I am surprised 
that you and brother would hack her in any such bad- 
ness.” 

Stella tucked her head and tittered, but Virgil ruffled 
up like an insulted chicken and retorted: 

. “ Lillie was right. She said she’d teach old Unc’ Bed 
a lesson about packin’ off so much. She says Unc’ Bed 
carries off most enough grub to feed two niggers, and 
she’s tired of it, too ! Why sister, if she don’t hide her 
dinner till she’s ready to eat it, he slips more than half 
of it into his bucket as soon as her back is turned! 
Lillie says our cats and dog get mighty few scraps when 
he’s working ’round the place, and she’s going to put a 
stop to it.” 

Virgil’s eyes had grown large and dark with excite- 
ment, and his face showed a determination to justify 
his favorite in her actions. 

“I suspect Virgil is about right.” said Mrs. Barrett, 
looking up fondly at her son, “Yet I am afraid Lillie 
is not always as considerate of the cats and dogs as she 
is today. I shouldn’t be surprised if ‘ Miss Alexander’s ’ 
beaux and that boy of hers did not prompt her to play 
the prank on old Bedingo, as much as anything else.” 

All laughed, and the girls being ready, they left Mrs. 
Barrett and the children to further discuss Lillie’s con- 
sideration of their interests, and betook themselves to 
the surrey. 

Nellie declined Allen’s services as driver, much to his 
disappointment, for he would have enjoyed seeing the 
Gun Club practice, quite as much as any one, and had 
hoped that he might go, from the time he was told to 
get the carriage ready. 

The three girls got in, two on the back seat and Nel- 
lie in front, to drive. The sun was trying to see how 
hot it could be, it seemed, and the girls were glad 
enough to reach the end of their short drive and draw 


80 


up in the shade of the big pecan tree, where two or 
three buggies and several horses were already standing. 

It was the same pecan tree near the river’s bank that 
had afforded a perch for the happy mocking-bird tbe 
night of the landing robbery, and the wide band about 
its bole, paler in hue than the rest of its bark, showed 
how high the river had lapped its sides when spring 
floods were forcing their passage-way to the gulf. 

The pigeon traps were set a short way from the tree, 
and nearer to the edge of the bank, bluff and almost 
perpendicular to the low murky water at its foot. The 
girls saw very little of the shooting that was done im- 
mediately after their arrival, for that time was taken up 
in exchanging greetings with the gentlemen who came 
up to the surrey. Dr. Allison was among the first to 
shake hands with them. He saw a golden opportunity 
awaiting some enterprising young man as soon as the 
surrey appeared pulling its way over the ramp in the 
levee, and Nellie had scarcely said “whoa,” beneath 
the wide branches of the tree, before he swung himself 
into the vacant seat by her side, and taking the lines 
from her hands, said : 

“ Let me hold them for you Miss Nellie ; the shooting 
might make the horse nervous and restless.” 

The girl smilingly assented. The arrangement suited 
her very well, although she was not apprehensive of 
any unseemly conduct upon the part of her span. 
There was too much phlegmatic fat between Tipsy’s 
and Toddie’s glossy bay coats and their nerves to admit 
of the latter being easily reached. She knew that the 
horses would each set one hip bone higher than the 
other, and slouching against the harness, doze content- 
edly until the small, firm hand of their mistress gave 
them intimation that they might start homeward, and 
supperward. 

There was a full attendance of the Gun Club that 


81 


afternoon. There were to be but two more days for 
practicing between then and the day of the tournament, 
when the final match was to come ofi, and Nellie felt 
very much interested in the result of the day’s score. 
Her father purposed enlisting in the contest, and it was 
a great pleasure to her to watch how true his aim was, 
and how steady his arm. He was never taken by sur- 
prise, no matter in which direction the ‘‘pigeons” or 
“ blue rocks” were tossed, and never before shot better 
than he did that afternoon. 

Several of her young men friends remonstrated with 
Nellie for the marked partiality she showed her father’s 
cause, and begged a transfer of her patronage to one of 
themselves, but she only refused in each case. 

“No indeed,” she would say, “Father’s going to win 
the day at the tournament. You just wait and see! 
Won’t you father?” she cried as Mr. Barrett came up 
to where she sat. 

“Oh Nell,” exclaimed Carrie when the men were 
about to put away the traps, “ wouldn’t you love to try 
to shoot at those little saucer-things ? ” 

“ Do you really want to try ? ” Mr. Barrett asked, 
looking at the girl’s sparkling face. 

“ Yes indeed ! Nell, do beg your papa to let us try.” 

“ Father won’t need begging if he thinks it right,” 
the loyal girl responded, with a fond glance at her 
handsome parent, and the result of it was, that our three 
girls and several from the other carriages arrayed them- 
selves nearer the traps, and each who was brave enough 
to do so, assayed a shot at the swiftly flitting “ saucers.” 

When it was Nellie’s turn to try, her father directed 
her attentively, then called for the spring to be touched ; 
just as the blue rock sailed off gracefully, her trembling 
finger pulled the trigger, and the “ bird ” fell, a shower 
of Iragments, amid a shout of applause. 

“Hurrah for Miss Nellie! Try it again! Set the 


82 


trap for Miss Nellie ! ” came from all sides, but they 
called in vain. 

“No indeed,” she declared; flushed and laughing. 
“ I have won my laurels, and can’t afford to lose them 
in the same day ! ” 

Some of the older men had gone homeward, but as 
the sun was not yet down, the young people gathered 
on the edge of the bank, and practiced shooting at 
sticks thrown into the river, until twilight, that lovliest 
part of the day, warned them to go home, too. 

Nellie had often fired a pistol, and was a pretty good 
shot, as was one or two of the other girls, Carrie, espec- 
ially, and Carrie was still secretly wondering why she 
had failed to break her pigeon, when she could hit the 
sticks floating on the water in almosf every instance. 

When Nellie and her friends returned to the surrey. 
Dr. Allison insisted that he should drive for her, saying 
he knew her to be too elated over her success as a marks- 
man to safely entrust with the lives of the others, and 
Durieux seeing Allison’s intention, crowded himself 
on the back seat to take care of Ruth and Carrie, for 
he vowed Allison knew nothing in the world about 
driving anything more spirited than a plow mule. 

As Jules entered the carriage he called to Arthur 
Wheeler: “ Take my horse, old man, and hitch him 
at Miss Ruth’s gate. 

Mr. Wheeler did as he was bade, and not long after 
that, his own horse was seen standing at the gate that 
little Carrie passed through oftenest. 


CHAPTER X. 


The morning of the tournament dawned at last, and 
as the sun reached high enough to peep over the rose 
lattice at Nellie’s window and send a shaft of gilt across 
the foot of her bed, she awoke. For a few moments 
she laid thinking joyously of the happy hours await- 
ing her. She heard Lillie in the distance call to Allen 
to bring her some stove wood, and she jumped up, 
dreading that she had overslept herself when there was 
so much to be done. She opened her window and 
studied the signs to see what the weather would be. 
The sky spread above like a great blue porcelain dome 
with a crumpled bride’s veil drifting here and there, 
and suggesting, as bridal veils should, only smiles and 
bliss. 

When fully assured that there was nothing to fear 
from the elements above to mar the success of the day, 
Nellie hurried to the kitchen to make further investi- 
gasions. 

She found Lillie at her post, with the leg of mutton 
roasting in the oven, and the chickens in a pot on the 
stove boiling at full speed, while breakfast was in course 
of progress. 

When the committee of arrangements sent their list 
of desired edibles out for contributions, Mrs. Barrett, 
with her usual liberality on such occasions, wrote down 
her name opposite “4 cakes, 2 gals, chicken salad, and 
1 leg mutton,” and now, the cakes were ready on the 
pantry shelf, white and delicious, the roast was fairly 
under way, and the salad only had to be made. 

Breakfast was soon dispatched, the housework hastily 
done, and by eleven o’clock every one was readv for 
83 


84 


the greatest frolic of the year. Virgil and Stella were 
dressed and waiting with their hats on, and for half an 
hour had been restlessly walking back and forth be- 
tween their mother’s room, Nellie’s, and the kitchen ; 
then out to the front gate to watch the passage of 
pleasure seekers on the way to Asola. Over and over 
they wondered how long it would be before they, too, 
could get started. The surrey stood waiting for them 
at the gate, and Mr. Durieux’ buggy was hitched at the 
rack just behind it, while the little wagon, containing 
Lillie, Allen, the contribution to the supper and the 
trunk of ball attire, had been gone for some time. 

All things come to an end, however, even children’s 
waiting; and finally Mr. Barrett closed and locked the 
front door behind them and Virgil realized with a 
whoop and an extra caper of his heels, that they were 
really, at last, upon the point of starting. 

Nellie looked as dainty as a field morning glory as 
she walked across the rich green lawn to get into the 
buggy. She wore a soft white muslin, with a wide 
white hat shading her face with its rolling brim. A 
cluster of La France roses nestled amid the lace near 
her rivaling cheeks. 

The road was in excellent condition ; hard and level, 
with but little dust, for the June rains, which had for- 
gotten dates and lingered into July, had kept them 
muddy until very recently, and the buggy and surrey 
could keep close together. They overtook the little 
wagon before they were half way to Asola, and soon 
left it in the rear. 

If the young couple in the buggy were enjoying 
themselves in anticipation of the pleasures in store, 
they had no advantage over the young couple in the 
wagon. Indeed it would have been hard to tell which 
of the two girls, the white or the black, was in the 
more delightful whirl of excitement. Both were look- 


85 


ing forward to the different methods they would em- 
ploy in drawing upon the day’s stock of events. Both 
would see, be seen, and hear, for there would be swains 
of the colored race there too, in the capacity of waiters, 
valets and hostlers, as eager to say soft nothings into 
dusky ears as there would be others of a higher rank 
in the rooms higher in the house of entertainment. 

Lillie was perched on the seat beside Allen, dressed 
in her very best and tossing her head with a daintier 
air than that which sat upon her in Mrs. Barrett’s 
kitchen. She knew she was assuming affectations, but 
she always donned them simultaneously with her nice 
dress, and she was rather proud of herself for her 
ambition to do so. These mannerisms vanished in the 
presence of white folks like dew-drops on a hot stove 
lid, but there was no reason, that Lillie knew of, why 
they should not be used to dazzle her associates. 

She had sprung out of bed when the first tap of the 
nearest plantation bell rang out upon the moist morn- 
ing air, and lighting a lamp to see how to find her 
clothes she hurried into them; running from her house 
to the kitchen, she had her fire started and her prepara- 
tions well under way before Allen sleepily dragged 
himself out of his own room. She had not seated her- 
self from the time she buttoned her shoes until she 
climbed into the wagon, yet there was not a vestage of 
fatigue on her smooth plump face. When Mrs. Barrett 
was making the chicken salad, Lillie snatched a mo- 
ment to taste her breakfast, standing at the kitchen 
table and rubbing knives between times. 

“Sit down, Lillie, and eat your breakfast properly,” 
Mrs. Barrett remonstrated when she noticed her; but 
Lillie only flashed her white teeth in a broad smile. 

“ La, Mrs. Barrett, I can’t never eat nothin’ when I’m 
goin’ somewheres. I is just makin’ out I’m eatin’.” 

6 


86 


“ But if you don’t eat, you will be tired to death 
before night.” 

“No’m I won’t. I does just this very way every 
time I goes to a picnic or anything.” So Lillie went 
on with her work as gaily as if it were a part of the 
day’s fun, and had it all finished in plenty of time too. 

It would not have done for a straight-laced house- 
keeper to have gone behind Lillie and examined things 
too closely after she had deserted the kitchen, for she 
would have found many things to shock her sense of 
what a well ordered kitchen should he. She would, 
without doubt, have found a dirty dish-rag or two here, 
a half wiped pan there, and a little pile of dirt in every 
dark corner, besides the seldom absent uncleaned pot, 
left to soak under the stove. But — ah, well, what are 
such trifles when compared with a sunny nature, and 
that quintessence of charity — the spirit that never irri- 
tates another? Better to go to a place of innocent 
pleasure now and then than to stay at home always 
and fret over inevitable dirt ; for dirt is like the poor, 
we have it always with us here and a whole eternity of 
it to claim us as its own when this brief somnambulism 
we call life is done. 

Allen sat beside Lillie with his shoulders humped 
over in a position of typical nigger don’t-careness, but 
he was nevertheless looking forward to a fine time, and 
to an increase in his finances caused by an occasional 
half dollar gathered in for sundry services he purposed 
offering young gentlemen in the way of holding horses 
and brushing shoes. 

Allen was young, hardly more than twenty-two, and 
something of a dude on a moderate scale. He was of 
considerably lighter complexion than his companion, 
being what a colored person would call “bright skin.” 
He was good-natured and easy-going in his disposition, 
like Lillie, but he sorely lacked Lillie’s industry. Like 


87 


most good looking young men of his years and station, 
which latter had enabled him to attend the parish 
school throughout his childhood, Allen Whitney was 
decidedly lazy. Mr. Barrett often told him that if he 
expended as much energy in accomplishing work as he 
did in avoiding it, he would achieve great things before 
he died. Allen had a fair understanding of what Mr. 
Barrett meant, although he could not have given a dic- 
tionary definition of each word used, and as was his 
habit when Mr. Barrett rebuked, he grinned good hu- 
moredly and said nothing. 

Lillie was supposed to be going to Asola for the pur- 
pose of taking care of the children and assisting them 
and the two ladies in dressing for the ball, and Allen 
was going, so he would have said if asked, to take the 
trunk and portion of the supper and to look after the 
horses; and unmistakably they each would attend 
conscientiously to the several duties apportioned them 
while there, and there was no harm whatever in their 
using eyes and ears incidentally after reaching their 
destination. 

In the meantime both young darkies were exercising 
their vocal powers in the manner habitual to them. 
They were too intimately associated with each other to 
be able to find any very weighty subject to discuss, or 
any brilliant remark to make; and moreover, there was 
but one clearly defined idea in either head. They were 
on their way to the grandest entertainment ever given 
in the parish, and with that thought surging through 
their minds, there was only room left for the lightest 
and most trancient reflections. 

“ Lord, this is goin’ to be another one of them hot 
days!” Allen exclaimed, mopping the perspiration 
from his face and neck with a red cotton handkerchief; 
the new white silk handkerchief he had bought for the 
occasion was too good to use, and he intended to re- 


88 


serve it until he could flash it forth in its unsullied 
beauty, where it would produce the highest efiect. 
The young negro so seldom wore a coat in summer, that 
to have worn one on a hot September day like this, 
would have been more than he could have endured. 
That, however, was not the only reason it was laid aside. 
He wore a pair of elegant yellow satin suspenders, and 
they were too attractive to be concealed beneath a coat 
and vest. As Allen wiped the crystal drops from his 
own brow, Lillie followed his example, giggled content- 
edly, and said in response to his remark: 

“ It certainly is hot ! I wonder how those gent’men 
who is goin’ to ride in the tournament is goin’ to stand 
this weather. ‘ Pears to me like they’d most perish.” 

“ Oh la,” sniffed Allen, “ they ain’t a goin’ to notice 
this heat. They’ll be so tooken up with the ridin’ 
and havin’ all those ladies lookin’ at ’em, they won’t 
have the sun to study ’bout.” 

Both laughed, and Allen touched up his mule to 
make her mend her gait a bit. 

The road from Sigma to Asola wound through cotton 
fields almost due south, and directly back from the 
river. It followed a bayou, here and there, for a mile 
or two, then turned back again through the fields. 
There was no part of its way when the rows of cotton 
did not reach from the wheel tracks, away on one or 
both sides, except where the road lead through a mile 
of cool, fragrant woodland. The fields were still vividly 
green although tbe plants were rapidly maturing, and 
the pretty diurnal blossoms gleamed amid the broad 
glossy leaves in their peculiar way, pure white here, 
creamy, nearer the base of the stem, and on, shading 
from delicate pink to the closing flowers of dark crim- 
son ; and side by side with this variety of tints, the 
tender squares stood bravely above the plump green 
bolls, which in turn, stood above the dark brown burst 


89 


bolls, almond-satin lined, and overflowing with snowy, 
drooping fleece. The cotton was opening fast near the 
ground, and in some places was ready for the cotton 
pickers’ nimble fingers, and his long white osnaburg 
bag. 

As Nellie and Durieux reached Pecan Bayou that ran 
through Asola, and followed its course into the little 
town, they saw buggies ahead of them, and still others 
following the bayou road and coming on behind them. 

It was just a quarter past twelve when they neared 
the town limits, and from that distance the music 
could be heard. Even the horse seemed to be thrilled 
by the strains of the brilliant tune the band was play- 
ing, and held his head with statlier grace. 

Nellie’s very finger tips seemed to respond to the 
queer excitement that only occasionally heard brass 
bands can send quivering through ones senses. Little 
Stella had never heard such music in all the five years 
of her life that she could recall, and being already 
overwrought with anticipation and the heat of the long 
drive, she threw her arms about her mother’s neck and 
laughed and cried together in childish hysterics. 

The court house lawn, where the tournament and 
shooting match were to be held, was already crowded 
when Mr. Barrett and Mr. Durieux drove into the en- 
closure. Several buggies and carriages had been drawn 
up near the elevated benches to be used as additional 
seats, and as every available bench and chair was al- 
ready filled, the gentlemen drove up, also, and had 
Allen remove the horses, taking them to the stable, and 
leaving the surrey and buggy near enough for the ladies 
to be together while their escorts were taking part in 
the shooting. This part of the day’s program consumed 
the remainder of the morning, but did not, as Nellie 
had predicted, bestow the honors upon her father. His 
score was good, if not the best, and after all, beat both 


90 


Mr. Durieux and Dr. Allison. Neither of these gentle- 
men were to take part in the riding, and soon after the 
gun match was decided, the Barrett party accepted 
Mrs. Hilliards’ invitation, and went home with her to 
dinner. 

Every house in Asola was dispensing hospitality to 
the throng of guests, and besides this, long tables were 
set in the wide, lower halls of the court house, and pro- 
vided with all any one could desire to sustain the inner 
man. 

There was a brief time allowed for resting between 
the hour for dining and the beginning of the riding, 
and the large jury rooms up stairs furnished as cloak 
rooms for the occasion, proved admirable lounging 
places during the interim. 

The brass band was playing again when our party 
returned to their places on the grounds, and it was but 
a short time before the interesting ride for the rings 
began. It gave Nellie an odd little feeling of having 
been transported by fairies to the days of Coeur de Leon, 
as she took her seat in the buggy, surrounded by the 
intense crowd, and looked about her. 

The band clashed its stirring martial strains, and 
two by two the knights in their gay courtier costumes 
and waving plumes, rode, with lancers at rest, down 
t\ve track. Nellie had no difficulty in recognizing her 
friends, despite their unfamiliar attire, and joined the 
throng in waving her handkerchief in encouragement 
as they rode leisurely past. When the procession of 
knights made the circuit and returned to the judges’ 
stand, reining up, each to await his turn in the tourney, 
there was a sudden hush of expectancy, and the mar- 
shal, mounted upon a magnificent black horse, rode to 
the front, and delivered his address to the ladies. He 
retired at its conclusion amid a stream of applause and 
then, one of the knights sallied forth. 


91 


As each successive young gentleman, with charging 
lance, dashed at fullest speed down the course, some 
little feminine heart beat faster, and some sweet maid- 
en’s spirits rose, as the ring told by its musical “ click ” 
that it was upon the lance; or fell, as her glances told 
her that the coveted circlet still hung upon its bracket, 
unsecured. 

Nellie sat with bated breath, watching every move- 
ment of a certain two of the make-believe warriors, 
and a dawning dread gradually chilled her. These 
two, the Knight of the Pelican and the Knight of the 
Canebrake, were riding with equal success. Each had 
made his second tilt and the score stood six to six. 
The Knight of the Canebrake was just riding forward 
to begin his third round, and Nellie hushed her 
breathing. 

Eagerly she listened, and her strained ear distinctly 
caught the sound “click”; a little fainter came the 
second sound, and fainter still the third, which was, 
nevertheless, acutely heard. 

Three more rings, making the completed require- 
ment. 

The cheer that went up would have announced the 
knight’s success, had not her own senses told her. 

And then the Knight of the Pelican came boldly 
forth. Nellie saw him glance at her and lift his plumed 
hat confidently ; she saw him touch his beautiful horse 
wdth his spur, and with a roaring in her ears that shut 
out all other sounds, she half closed her eyes and 
waited. 

Another cheer went up, and the girl closed her lips 
tightly to restrain the cry that almost escaped her. 

It seemed but a few moments before the marshal 
rode to the front and announced that the Knight of 
the Canebrake and the Knight of Pelican, having both 
secured the complete compliment of rings, would have 


92 


to ride again to decide which should have the honor of 
crowning the Queen of Love and Beauty, 

Nellie sighed in relief and her spirits rose, but only 
for a moment. Second thought showed her that the 
complication was not yet at an end. Durieux who sat 
beside her, and one or two other young men standing 
near for the chance of winning some attention, spoke 
to her, 'but she answered absently. 

The second tilt was ended, and she scarcely knew 
with what result. She watched the five successful 
young gentlemen ride up into a group in front of the 
judge’s stand and hold a consultation. The two who 
had made the tie seemed to be discussing something, 
and the others laughed and looked around in her direc- 
tion. Each knight selected an esquire from among 
the riders who had taken the least rings and sent him 
to the lady of his choice. Nellie saw two of the es- 
quires coming straight toward herself, and she shrank 
among her cushions in dread. 

She felt that total annihilation, anything, would be 
preferable to the ordeal before her. 

As the two young gentlemen reached her side, they 
bowed in imitation of the courtly days of yore, when 
tournaments were the play ot' princes and red blood 
the trophy, instead of scarlet rings, and one of them, 
taking his cue from the marshal’s graceful address, 
began in stilted dignity : 

“ Fairest lady of this fairest of earthly realms. Sir 
Knight of the Pelican sends me with the petition that 
you deign to accept the crown his valiant hand has 
won for your peerless brow. He — ” 

“ For gracious sake hush, Jim,” the other ’squire in- 
terposed in an exaggerated stage whisper, nudging him 
with his elbow. “ Do give me a chance.” He sum- 
marily pulled his opponent back by the sleeve and 
stepped into his place before the blushing girl. “No- 


93 


blest lady in the land,” he continued, assuming an 
heroic attitude and placing his hand over the region of 
his heart, “ Sir Knight of the Canebrake craves that 
your ladyship will bend from your lofty heights and 
look down in pity upon his yearning heart on this 
royal occasion. Allow him to offer you the honors he 
has won.” 

The young fellow overdid his part, as he intended, 
so ludicrously that those near enough to see him and 
hear his words broke into a merry laugh. 

Nellie cast an appealing look upon her father and he 
came to her aid. 

“ Oh father,” she cried in an undertone, “ what on 
earth am I to do ? ” 

“ Why, my daughter, the one who offers you the 
queen’s crown has best right to your consideration, 
because of his superior prowess. Do you not think 
so?” 

“ But father, what shall I do with the other one ? 
Of course it is the greater honor to be the queen, but I 
was thinking if I took that one, it would make the 
girl who is then ofilered the first maid’s crown feel 
badly at being second choice, but if I accept the maid’s 
crown, almost any girl would be willing to be queen.” 

Mr. Barrett, proud of her unselfishness, looked fondly 
into his pretty daughter’s distressed face. 

“ My dear, why should you trouble yourself about 
this? You cannot accept but one crown, neither are 
you responsible for the fact that both gentlemen prefer 
to have you share his honors.” 

The tears almost sprang into Nellie’s eyes. 

Oh father, you don’t understand ! I am so miser- 
able, for I am to blame for it all. This dreadful con- 
fusion is all my fault. Don’t you see — I was foolish 
enough to promise them both.” 

Mr. Barrett started in surprise. “My child, how 
could you ! ” 


94 


Nellie hung her head. “ I never thought, that was 
it. I promised without thinking, for it never occurred 
to me that either one of them would be so successful. 
Mr. Northcot told me when he asked me to accept his 
crown, if he won it, that he had little hope of success, 
because his horse was so nervous; he was afraid she 
would become frightened and unruly ; and you know, 
you said yourself, that Mr. Wayman often failed to 
take even three rings. I did’nt think it would be pos- 
sible for both to win,” she mused, in conclusion. 

“ Ah ! And so my daughter thought she would try 
to stay on both sides of the fence ! ” 

“Oh, father!” 

“ Well, well,” said Mr. Barrett, sorry that he had re- 
buked the distressed girl by his momentary sarcasm, 
“ you must hasten and make a decision. Every one 
is waiting.” 

Nellie cast a hurried glance about her, and shrank 
further back from the merry quisical eyes turned upon 
her. 

“ Father, this is dreadful 1 How can I stand to have 
everybody looking at me this way! Take me home — 
oh, please take me home. Tell them I am sick — any- 
thing. Really my head aches violently.” ^ 

“ No, no,” remonstrated Mr. Barrett kindly, “ that 
would never do. You must not let your day be spoiled 
by this. You have been looking forward to tonight’s 
ball for a month. Come, I will speak to the gentlemen 
and try to effect an explanation. What shall you tell 
them, yourself? ” 

Nellie’s brow contracted for a moment in deep 
thought. She lifted her troubled eyes. “Wouldn’t 
it be best to tell the gentlemen exactly how it was?” 

Mr. Barrett smiled, pleased with her decision. He 
thought if her sweet girlish candor could not explain 
away the difficulty and restore good feeling, nothing 
9lse could. 


95 


“Very well then,” he said, “ I will go to the gentle- 
men and ask them to decide between themselves which 
shall crown you.” 

As Mr. Barrett joined the two ’squires and with them 
went in the direction of the waiting knights, Durieux, 
who had gotten out of the buggy when he saw that 
Nellie wanted to talk to her father, again took his place 
and opened such a fire of light chatter that the girl 
partially forgot her dilemma until Mr. Barrett returned. 

“ They have decided to ride over again,” that gentle- 
man said, as he came to her, “ and for the sake of the 
girl whom the unsuccessful knight must choose, they 
have agreed to say that the hesitation was due to a 
mistake causing another tie.” 

“You precious darling!” exclaimed the grateful 
girl, “ I knew you could help me out ! But tell me,” 
she added, more seriously, “ do they seem angry with 
me ? ” 

Mr. Barrett laughed. “ Neither one is any too well 
pleased. I think you will have to be an extraordi- 
narily good girl indeed to make pleasant terms with 
the one who is defeated in riding this tilt.” 

“Oh, I’ll just do anything that’s reasonable to make 
amends! I’ll explain that it was because I was a 
thoughtless little goose and not because I was wilfully 
wicked. I’ll say just exactly how it was.” 

“Yes, but see here. Miss Nellie,” put in Durieux, 
who had heard part of her explanation to her father, 
“you said just now that you really thought neither of 
them would be successful. Do you mean to openly ex- 
press your doubts of their skill to these gentlemen ? ” 

“Ah, tenez-vous tranquille I’’’’ Nellie cried saucily, 
returning to her French as her spirits regained their 
equanimity. “ I refuse to discuss the matter with you 
at all,” she went on. “ There, look, they are beginning 
to ride again ! ” 


96 


The tilt was soon concluded, resulting in victory 
again for the Knight of Pelican. The marshal came 
forward for the last time and proclaimed the names of 
the victorious knights, and also of the young ladies 
who were to be the Queen of Love and Beauty and 
her four maids of honor. 

The ceremony of crowning was not to take place 
* until night, in the ball-room, and the crowd having 
witnessed all that was to transpire before that event, 
dispersed to rest and to prepare for the ball. The sun 
was just setting when Mrs. Barrett and her party again 
repaired to her cousin’s home and found that lady 
busily engaged in serving iced tea to the crowd of 
friends sitting on the gallery and in the hall, where the 
coolest breezes were to be found. 


CHAPTER XI. 


It was somewhat after nine o’clock when Mr. and 
Mrs. Barrett, preceded by Stella and Virgil, and fol- 
lowed by Nellie and Mr. Durieux, entered the ball room. 
The extensive apartment, which upon legitimate occa- 
sions was the court room, had been stripped of its legal 
appurtenances and converted, as it had often been be- 
fore, into a place of enjoyment for our dance loving 
people. 

As Nellie crossed the threshold of the central door, 
voices on all sides were heard in undertones, exclaim- 
ing: “The queen, here comes Miss Nellie Barrett — 
here’s the queen at last. Now we’ll see the crowning, 
and the dancing can begin.” 

Alvah North cot, the Knight of Pelican, was standing 
near the door waiting for her. He hastened up, and 
offering his arm, was about to lead her to the dais on 
the opposite side of the room, when Durieux interposed. 

“ Not so fast, if you please. Sir Knight. Just wait an 
instant until I can get a program for our queen and 
put my name upon it. Ah, here is one now.” 

Durieux intercepted the young boy who was distrib- 
uting cards of the dance among the guests, and took 
two from him. 

“ If I let Miss Nellie go with you without the promise 
of a set, my chances will be gone for the evening. Now 
Miss Nellie,” he added, writing as he spoke, “I shall 
have the first set after the royal quadrille, may I not, — 
and this waltz on the second half? Thanks.” 

He bowed, and extended the card toward her, but 
before Nellie’s hand could touch it, half a dozen larger 
hands were thrust into the way, and the program cir- 
97 


98 


culated among their owners until the first side was 
closely filled with names. 

As Nellie and Northcot stood chatting amid the 
crowd near the door, waiting for the program to be re- 
turned to her, the marshal hastened to them. 

Say boys,” he cried, “ you are delaying things 
dreadfully. Come, let Alvah take Miss Barrett to the 
dais. Everybody is impatient to see the crowning and 
begin the dance.” 

Northcot again offered her his arm, and together they 
walked the length of the room. To Nellie the distance 
had never seemed so great before. With the eyes of 
the crowd watching her every movement, she had that 
chilling sensation of a sleeper who tries to rush from 
danger and feels that his feet refuse to move. 

They were a charming couple, these two. He, tall 
and heroically proportioned, with the faultlessness of 
his figure thrown into relief by his close fitting knee 
breeches of ruby velvet, and silken hose. His gilt 
embroidered zouave jacket with his emblem bird em- 
blazoned upon each front, and his wide lace collar, 
fitting snugly over a silk blouse, which, like his hose, 
was of that pink which tinges the summer horizon 
between sunset and twilight, and the whole gave him • 
a strikingly distinguished air, both noble and poetic. 

Nellie beside him, dainty, tall and slender, looked 
the regal personage she represented, in her faintly blue 
dress, soft and floating, revealing her flawless neck and 
arms and enhancing the beauty of her majestically 
poised head. 

As they reached the dais, and took their places amid 
the pretty maids of honor and their gorgeously attired 
cavaliers, a murmur of admiration was awakened that 
rose into a loud cheer before it died away. 

Nellie bowed her graceful head to receive the wreath 
of forget-me-nots that proclaimed her queen, and waited 


99 


until her maids were crowned about her, then the royal 
party descended to the floor, and being joined by the 
marshal and a lady from among the spectators whom 
he had chosen, the initial quadrille was formed. 

This was almost the only set during the evening that 
was danced with any degree of real pleasure. For after 
this, when all who wished were at liberty to join, the 
crush was so intense that it amounted to but little more 
than dodging one’s way through the surging mass, to 
the strains of violins and harp, rather than dancing. 

Every one in the parish was there ; and besides these, 
three other parishes were well represented, as was also 
the city across the river. At an aflair given as this one 
was, by two benevolent societies, the Knights of Phy- 
thias and Knights of Honor, whose democratic prin- 
ciples embrace recruits from every strata of the social 
mountain, it was expected that the throng would be 
great and varied. 

There is no tangible line drawn among social sets in 
this country where each man has all the elbow room 
he can desire, yet there is a distinction felt by each 
class, and these, coming in constant social contact, meet 
in genial courtesy, mingle, but rarely mix. The en- 
forced Jaw of this heterogeneous structure is, that by 
common consent, criminals shall be debarred from its 
ranks ; but for the rest, each set realizes its inherent 
station and abides therewith. Every one assumes his 
best behavior together with his best suit of clothes, and 
going to the place of amusement, seeks nothing else 
than pleasure. 

Nellie did not know even half of the people who 
were present, the greater portion of whom she had 
never seen before, and one uf her amusements during 
the evening was guessing what names belonged to cer- 
tain faces, and wmndering why it was that she who had 
lived in the parish ail her life, did not, after all, know 


100 


all its people. Neither were all the royal party her ac- 
quaintances. Her first maid of honor was her dearest 
girl friend, Carrie ; and this pretty maiden, having con- 
soled the Knight of the Canebrake by accepting the 
distinction she could not, harmony seemed restored. 
The second maid of honor, a beautiful Jewess whom 
Nellie knew quite well, was a girl of refinement and 
culture. She had come to this land of the free to live 
with relatives because the family bank account in Ger- 
many was not elastic enough to provide her and each of 
her six sisters with dowries of a size to enable them all 
to marry men of their own station at home. She was 
exquisitely dressed, and was admired greatly by many 
besides her Jewish cavalier, and he, a man highly es- 
teemed, was the son of one who years before began his 
American mercantile career with a pack upon his back 
and a pair of stout walking boots upon his feet. The 
third maid was a bayou-side belle of sixteen care-free 
summers, with two leading ideas, balls and beaux. 

As this self-conscious young woman entered the room 
and was met by her gallant, she tossed her head in 
keen appreciation of the importance of her position 
and giggled with childish complaisance. 

“ I hope I haven’t kept you all waiting,” she sim- 
pered. “ Mama just looked like she never was going 
to be ready.” 

“ Oh that’s all right ; ” reassured her admirer, “ don’t 
anybody mind waitin’ for you. I would a went for 
you myself if I’d a known where you was at.” 

This flattered beauty was quite as well satisfied with 
herself as any other young woman in the house, and 
was equally contented with her favorite lover. 

She had flatly refused to be sent back to school, and 
by way of domineering over her parents, held the 
threat of running away with this same lover constantly 
before them. The young gentleman, for gentleman he 


101 


certainly was if the prevailing definition of that term 
is to be relied upon, was a handsome fellow, always well 
dressed. He had never earned a dollar by the sweat 
of his brow in the twenty-three years of his dife ; nor 
had he labored at anything more arduous than win- 
ning at a horse race or a game of cats. He lived at his 
ease, as a gentleman is supposed to do, and owned one 
of the handsomest, fleetest horses in the state. 

After this dashing young pair came the fourth and 
last maid of honor — a girl who taught school for the 
support of herself and mother as a profession, and 
sewed and cooked when not engaged with pedagogic 
duties. She had, besides her erudition, a genealogical 
table somewhere at home that showed her descent from 
nine generations of representative Americans, and as 
many others of an older country, including among its 
members soldiers and statesmen of no mean order. 
Her knight was in every way worthy of herself, being 
a young lawyer with excellent family connections and 
hereditary intellect sufficient to promise him a brilliant 
future. 

Mrs. Barrett with a group of ladies sat near one of 
the great open windows, watching the young people 
gliding about. At her right was Mrs. Hilliard, a woman 
with decided opinions upon most matters, and not re- 
luctant to express these when she felt that she was 
right in her estimate of the subject under discussion. 
She was several years younger than Mrs. Barrett and 
far more self assertive, yet there was a strong personal 
resemblance between them and a great similarity of 
tastes. 

The lady who sat at Mrs. -^Barrett’s left was Mrs. 
Minor, at one time a famous beauty and belle but now 
mostly a structure of petty affectations, former date 
education, handsome diamonds, powder and a bit of 
rouge. She was a woman who, in her younger days, 


7 


102 


had traveled and seen a good deal of the world with 
its company manners on. She had come into it with 
the traditional silver spoon, and a splendid one it was 
at that, ready for her, and she had spent much of her 
time since bewailing the uncongenial circumstances 
which compelled her to battle almost single handed 
with privations that she scorned to acknowledge ac- 
quaintance with. Then, fate, not seeming satisfied 
with using her aristocratic nature for a foot-ball, had 
added greater disappointment than all in the person of 
Vincent, her only son. 

Mrs. Minor fanned herself with the same graceful 
dignity she acquired in the zenith of her belledom, 
and lamented the degeneracy of society in general and 
of Louisiana in particular. 

“ Ah,” she sighed, with an uplifting of her still bright 
eyes, “ society was not once what it is now ! Never 
did I think to see the day when our class would will- 
ingly mingle with such people as are here to-night. 
Think, Cornelia, of mothers allowing their daughters 
to attend places of entertainment like this, where if 
participating in a quadrille or lancers their hands must 
necessarily come in contact with hands of men whom 
they would never consent to meet on terms of equality 
elsewhere. Ah, things were quite different when I was 
a girl.” 

Mrs. Barrett winced slightly. She was the only one 
of the three who had a young lady daughter at the ball, 
for Mrs. Minor’s was married and at home with her 
small family. Mrs. Hilliard, on the other hand, smiled 
behind Mrs. Minor’s averted face and wondered how 
that lady failed to know that her own son was one of 
the few whom young ladies with the proper spirit, and 
Nellie Barrett conspicuously among that number, re- 
fused to perceive. 

“Do you really believe,” she questioned of Mrs. 


103 


Minor, “ that we are deteriorating, or is it not probably 
due to the different view we take of intrinsic worth ? ” 

“Unquestionably to the different views of to-day,” 
Mrs. Minor returned, smiling patronizingly upon Mrs. 
Hilliard as one too young to have previously judged of 
such matters, and again Mrs. Hilliard’s lips curved into 
a quaint smile. She thought again of Vincent Minor 
and the manner in which he was faithfully reflecting 
his father’s aristocratic vices in a mirror less polished 
than that sire had done before him. Mrs. Minor would 
have said, if asked, that girls were too innocent in her 
youth to be aware that moral deformities existed ; and 
if asked how one could expect the son to escape inher- 
iting evil as well as virtue from his progenitor, she 
would have been shocked at the up-to-date woman’s 
question and shrunk from her contaminating influence. 

Mrs. Hilliard did her own thinking, and the’ older 
woman went on talking. 

“ What is strangest of all to me,” she said, “ is not 
only that our former exclusiveness is gone, but that 
our girls are allowed to' attend these social functions 
alone with young men. In my girlhood no young lady 
drove several miles with a gentleman unaccompanied 
by a chaperone.” 

Mrs. Minor appealed to Mrs. Barrett. “ Do you not 
regret, Cornelia, that this deplorable condition of af- 
fairs exists ? ” 

Mrs. Barrett moved uneasily, feeling that this criti- 
cism touched upon her own method with Nellie rather 
severely. She wondered if Mrs. Minor meant to take 
her to task, but that lady intended nothing of the kind. 
She was looking at facts collectively and comparing the 
times with that of thirty years ago, when she was the 
reigning belle and Mrs. Barrett but a bit of a school 
girl. Mrs. Minor repeated her question and Cornelia 
Barrett had to give her opinion. 


104 


“Really, Mrs. Minor, I have never thought of it 
one way or another. I have simply accepted existing 
customs. All of the other girls go alone to parties 
with their gentlemen friends, and naturally Nellie has 
‘ gone with the procession’.” Mrs. Barrett laughed, and 
Mrs. Minor, shaking her head sadly, turned to Mrs. 
Hilliard, who, as soon as she was confronted by Mrs. 
Minor’s inquiringly arched eyebrows and deprecating 
shrug, parted her lips with her habitual decisiveness. 

“No indeed. I see nothing to deplore. I have often 
thought how much it argues in favor of our youth that 
such a condition of social liberties is possible. It may 
he necessary in some countries to keep girls and young 
men under surveillance, and if it is, it only reflects all 
the more credit upon our young men, whom experience 
shows can take as good care of another’s sister, as of 
their own. Comparing our methods with European 
customs, I think it speaks volumes in favor of our 
men.” 

“ And the purity and common sense of our girls,” 
interposed Mrs. Barrett, stimulated by her cousin’s 
vehemence and amused as she spoke by the horrified 
expression upon Mrs. Minor’s countenance. 

Further discussion of the subject was prevented by 
the approach of Vivian, a twelve year old daughter of 
Mrs. Hilliard, who with her boyish partner, came up 
to them. 

“You tired of your set soon,” Mrs. Barrett said to 
her, smiling. 

“ No’m,” the boy answered. “We weren’t tired but 
we had to stop because we couldn’t get along at all. 
The crowd is dreadful.” 

“Yes, mama,” said Vivian, “it is! Somebody 
stepped on my foot, and before I could get over that, 
somebody else bumped against my back so it nearly 
took my breath away.” 


105 


“ And,” put in her mother, “ the moral of it all is 
that children should not try to dance at grown people’s 
parties.” 

The boy and Vivian exchanged glances and laughed. 

“Vivian, where are Stella and Virgil?” Mrs. Barrett 
asked as the juvenile couple turned to go. 

“ They are asleep in the dressing room. Lillie made 
Allen bring her the carriage cushions, and with them 
and the shawls she has made them the nicest sort of a 
bed.” 

“ Ain’t you sleepy, too ? ” 

“ Why, mama! The ideal No indeed. I’m having 
too nice a time to be sleepy. I’ve danced nearly every 
set.” 

“You mean you’ve tried to,” laughed the boy. 

“Well, I tried to then, if I must be so particular 
about the truth ; but I enjoyed it just the same. My,” 
she added, laughing, “ ain’t it hot in here ? And no 
place to sit down either.” 

“ Come, let’s go out on the gallery, where there are 
plenty of benches.” 

Vivian Hilliard took her young friend’s arm and to- 
gether they worked their way through the crowd to the 
cool gallery where there were seats in plenty, illumi- 
nated by the rows of Japanese lanterns that swung 
from the edge of the roof, in addition to the moon’s 
brilliant light. 

Supper had been served in the halls below, and the 
second half of the program was nearly through. The 
violins were playing a spirited polka and to its time 
Dr. Allison and Nellie drifted, making use of the lazy 
walk-step alternately with the glide. Nellie had danced 
so unceasingly at the importunity of her partners that 
she was thoroughly tired, and scarcely noticed whither 
Dr. Allison was guiding her, until he stopped at the 
door leading into the end of the hall, and laying the 


106 


hand he held, upon his arm, conducted her to a little 
balcony that stood out from the hall at the side of the 
building. He found her a chair and sank into another 
near by. The music went on in the ball room, for the 
set had little more than commenced when Allison, 
knowing that the balcony was empty, made good his 
opportunity to secure it for himself. There was only 
room enough upon it for two people at a time and was 
intended more for ornamenting the handsome court- 
house than for' actual utility. It was so delightfully 
restful out there as compared with the brilliant lights 
and heat within, that for a time both young people sat 
in silence. Nellie sighed in pure relief for this oasis 
in the wilderness of sounds and mirth, and her com- 
panion arose and turned his chair around, placing it 
nearer the girl’s and so that it fronted the long open 
window giving egress to their retreat. When his chair 
was arranged and he seated again, he leaned forward 
and eagerly looked upon Nellie’s moon-illumined face. 

“ Are you tired much ? ” he murmured. 

The words were so common-place that they might 
have been shouted above the noise within, yet the tone 
in which they were spoken was so inefiably tender, that 
Nellie started and looked suddenly into the speaker’s 
face. There was only a glance, and her eyes fell. She 
tried to answer carelessly, but the thrilling steadfast- 
ness of those wonderful eyes, set her heart beating 
faster, and she spoke scarcely above a whisper : 

“ Yes.” 

She sat with her head bent forward and her restless 
fingers opening and shutting her fan. Allison watch- 
ing her intently, rested one elbow upon his knee, and 
leaning toward her, ruthlessly twisted his mustache, 
breaking out one after another of the strands uncon- 
ciously. At last he spoke : 

“ Miss Nellie,” he said intensly, “ heaven knows I 


107 


have tried to keep from telling you how I love you — 
tried not to tell you until there was some chance that 
I can see, to ask you to marry me. Tonight I cannot 
help myself. I feel that I would give the best years 
of my life just for the delight of telling you how sweet, 
sweet, sweet, you are, and how passionately I love you ! ” 

As he spoke he leaned nearer until his Hps almost 
touched her ear, but she sat so still, her head only sink- 
ing a little lower, that Allison started back in dread. 

‘‘ Miss Nellie ! ” he cried, suppressing his tones, “ for 
God’s sake, don’t say that I am mistaken — don’t say 
that you have seen my love all this time, and now mean 
to throw me over ! ” 

There was such pain, such misery, in his hurried 
uttered words that Nellie was dismayed. She turned 
her head and looked at him again as she whispered 
reproachfully : 

“ How could you say that?” 

Allison in turn, read immutible love in a glance, and 
his heart beat with such ecstasy that he could express 
his thanks in no way but by clasping her hand, and 
kissing it fervently. A happy little laugh bubbled 
from his heart. 

Then you don’t consider me a fool? ” 

She, too, laughed softly, joyously, and answered 
playfully : “ I’m not so sure of that.” 

“ Why ? ” he asked, too delighted with what her eyes 
had told, to heed the words from her lips. 

“ For wasting your time on such as I.” 

“Darling!” 

Allison again squeezed the hand he had not released, 
and laughed softly 

^ Neither of them had noticed that the polka they 
deserted^ was over, and that the dancers were prome- 
nading in the ball-room and hall, the scores of feet 
making a dull, roaring sound as they moved ceaselessly 


108 


around. A negro passing coffee among the guests came 
toward them and Allison had barely time to drop the 
hand he held before he stepped upon the balcony before 
them. 

“ Have some coffee, Sir?” 

Won’t you take some, Miss Nellie?” Allison asked, 
his voice sounding so unnatural and flippant that the 
girl laughed, and in turn her tones seemed strangely 
silly. 

‘‘ No, thank you,” and she laughed again. 

Allison sobered up. “ Perhaps you would better,” 
he said, the physician rising superior to the lover. 
“ Are you not very tired ? ” 

“ Will you take a cup if I do? ” 

“ Yes.” 

There was a meeting of bashful eyes, and soft laugh- 
ter, and these two, almost beside themselves with their 
new happiness, took the cups, and were once more left 
alone. The coffee did do Nellie good, for it refreshed 
her tired body and steadied her nerves so that she could 
bear her bliss with more composure, and when the 
darkey returned with his empty tray, she put her cup 
upon it and said, “ Thank you,” naturally. Just as she 
did so, she heard the negro band-master calling the 
next set. 

Nellie hastily picked up her card. “ Whom have I 
promised this Number,” she cried, consulting it. “Oh 
yes, to Mr. Durieux. Come, I must go in so he can find 
me.” 

“ Just a moment ! ” Allison caught her hand again. 
“Let me tell you once more I love you, I love you, I 
love you! Darling, won’t you tell me that you love 
me?” 

“ Nellie showed through her eloquent eyes all the love 
she could not speak, but she shook her head slowly. 

“Just one word,” he coaxed, “only one? Can’t 


109 


you then say, ‘ dear Ed’ ? Won’t you say that? — just 
‘ dear Ed,’ once, that’s all I ask,” he pleaded. 

Nellie felt that she must not linger. She parted her 
lips, but the words would not come. She lifted her 
hand that was clasped in her lover’s strong, firm, fin- 
gers, bringing both nearer, and pressed her soft pink 
cheek for an instant against the back of his ungloved 
hand ; then springing to her feet and taking Allison’s 
arm, together they somehow went the short distance 
that lay between the balcony and ball-room ; just with- 
in, thej^ met Jules Durieux; he put his arm about 
Nellie’s waist, and glidedwith her amid the throng. 

Allison went back to the balcony and sat in the chair 
Nellie had quitted, pressing his lips to his hand that 
still thrilled with the velvety contact of her fair face. 
He laughed in his intoxication, and hated to break the 
delicious spell that held him in bliss that was divine. 
If there was some way to make that pulsing caress in- 
delible, how gladly he would embrace it ! He pressed 
his own cheek to his hand as she had done, and then 
hurriedly, he went in search of the partner who was 
waiting for him. 


CHAPTER XIL 


Durieux wrapped Nellie’s soft, white shawl carefully 
about her before he helped her into the buggy, and as 
he spread the linen lap-cloth over her silken skirts, he 
urged her to draw her zephyr hood more closely about 
her head. Mr. and Mrs. Barrett and the children were 
ready to start for home, too, and Mr. Barrett held his 
reins, waiting, leaned out, and called, “ All ready ? ” 

“ All ready ! ” answered Durieux cheerily, and Mr. 
Barrett taking the lead, the two conveyances rolled off 
briskly, leaving Allen and Lillie to follow as soon as 
the former could climb into the wagon where Lillie sat 
nodding, a piece of cake in her hand. She waked up 
with a jump as Allen gave his mule a tap, and took 
another bite of cake. 

Their long nap in the dressing room, followed by 
their coming into the fresh night — or rather morning 
air, for it was after three o’clock — waked the children 
thoroughly and they fell to chattering in the liveliest 
manner. This would have been all well enough if they 
had been willing to make their conversation a duet, 
but almost every remark concluded with “Didn’t it, 
mother?” or “Wasn’t it, father?” which demanded 
constant appearance of attention on the part of their 
sleepy parents. 

Nellie and Durieux revived, too, at first, as the cool 
purity of the air aroused them, and many events of the 
day were gone over again in interchange of thought, 
but by and by, as the night grew darker, and the 
fatigue of the long drive was added to that of dancing, 
and the day’s excitement, Nellie became more and more 
subdued, until she sat in total silence. She was think- 
110 


Ill 


ing of the compliments that had been showered upon 
her since the day’s pleasures began, and unknowingly, 
she was thinking that all of these combined, failed, 
when compared with the delicious moment when the 
greatest compliment of her life was offered her, — when 
Edward Allison, unable to withstand the inward press- 
ure of his love, had, against his will and better judg- 
ment, told her how precious she was lo him. She was 
thinking of all this, drifting off into a reverie that made 
her oblivious of where she was, or with whom. She 
was floating in a paradise of sweet recollections that 
held but two beings — her lover, and herself to be loved. 

The man beside her was thinking, too; hard, bitter, 
miserable thoughts. Never before had his lot seemed 
so hard, his limitations so narrowed. He hated the 
fate that placed him, a man of refinement, of culture 
and luxurious tastes, in the semi-menial position he 
held ; manager of a plantation where, day after day, 
the worry of contact with thick-headed, rascally negroes 
was his hourly portion. He felt that he hated the 
whole race of miserable mongrels, whose sense of honor 
was little broader, little higher than the lowest of brutes. 
He hated the thought that with the coming of the day, 
the same eternal vigilence, which was the only price 
of liberty for the white man who hired the negro, must 
begin and go monotonously over again. 

He hated the circumstances that made him poor — 
made him dependent upon his constant exertions for 
his daily bread, and left him with so little to lay aside 
for the proverbial rainy day. All his existence seemed 
so contracted, so hard, so pregnant with the reason why 
life was not worth the living ! 

He hated his pride — the one strong legacy inherited 
from his ancestors. This had once been a source of 
self-congratulation, and he was content to think that 
in descending to him it formed a bulwark in his 


112 


nature. He had been content with it, and with the 
courage that bore him up to labor and to wait; but now 
the futility of it all mocked him like a grinning 
demon. 

His pride was the characteristic that had sealed his 
lips. He would not bring himself to ask her love of 
the woman who could look down upon his poverty. 
He would not ask her to leave her life of ease, of plenty, 
to share the restrictions that held him in a circle so 
narrow. The woman he loved should never feel that 
she lost, in becoming his wife. She should be elevated, 
or she should never know his temptation to tell her of 
his love. 

Nellie Barrett had never in her life had a wish un- 
gratified that money could command, and Durieux 
almost hated the man who could trade upon her 
inexperience and ask of her sacrifices that she now 
knew nothing of; and yet Durieux was just and could 
not scorn his rival. He had not been blinded by his 
hope into belief in future security. When Dr. Allison 
first came, he saw his danger. He watched the two 
together, and saw the color come and go in her trans- 
lucent cheeks, as the guileless girl showed her growing 
preference for the stranger. In the beginning he tried 
that strongest weapon against woman, ridicule, hoping 
with it to check her growing interest, but only failed. 

In his justice, he could but acknowledge that Allison 
was right in seeking what he so well knew she would 
scarce be able to withhold. He had foreseen it all. In 
calm jealousy he noted every glance that passed be- 
tween them when they were together in his presence ; 
and that night, as he met them in the doorway return- 
ing from the balcony, he saw that the die had been 
cast, and that he, too, must abide by the throw. 

He saw the tell-tale light in the face of each, that 
was like the sting of a viper. With smiling lips that 


113 


covered an aching heart, he went to her, and in a voice 
that sounded hard only to himself, because he alone 
knew that he suffered, he claimed his partner. Allison, 
smiling unconsciously in his rapture, gave her up with 
a little air of proprietorship that was maddening. 

Nellie, oblivious of the conflict raging within the 
man beside her, yet perhaps esoterically influenced by 
it, drifted from joyous into troubled reflections. She 
realized that it would be a long, long time before Dr. 
Allison could come for her, and give her the privilege 
of being always by his side, and not only was this 
waiting unavoidable, but to it she knew would be added 
her father’s disapproval to make the coming years drag 
wearily. 

Durieux’ horse, which in his abstraction had been 
allowed to go drowsily on, trusting to his instincts to 
keep the path, drew the buggy too far to the right, and 
striking a small stump, aroused his driver abruptly. 

Durieux turned his head and saw that his com- 
panion had not felt the jolt, and was still lost in deep 
meditation. He smiled bitterly as he thought of the 
surprise the knowledge of his own misery would be to 
her. He pulled himself together with an effort, and 
exclaimed in mock alarm : 

“ Miss Nellie, say, wake up ! I’ll be lonesome if you 
go to sleep! ” 

Nellie laughed softly. 1 am not asleep,” she said, 
“ but I was beginning to think you were, from the way 
you were driving.” She laughed again and went on : 
“ Please don’t ask me to talk, though, for my poor jaws 
fairly ache with the excessive exercise they have had 
today. They feel exhausted; and I have laughed until 
the muscles of my face seem set in an eternal grin. It 
is no wonder we grow wrinkled and ugly is it, when 
we have too good a time ? ” ^ 

Durieux laughingly agreed with her, and silence fell 


114 


between them again, leaving Nellie to return to her 
perplexity over one of the greatest puzzles of her life. 
Intuitively she knew that her father did not like Dr. 
Allison, and why this aversion existed she could not 
comprehend. To her it seemed the irony of fate that 
two men, so noble, so true, so alike in all that was best, 
could fail to understand each other. 

The world had gradually thrown off its gloom, the 
grey ether revealed objects dimly on the horizon, and 
the trees that were nearest were now individuals. 
The sky was becoming softer and paler, and lowly in- 
sects crept away through the weeds. A partridge, 
followed by her half-grown family, scurried noiselessly 
across the roadway, and vanished beneath the cotton’s 
dewy foliage. 

A plantation bell in the distance rang out suddenly 
its solemn, dew-mufiled notes, and Nellie started shiver- 
ingly. Durieux watched her averted face, and as the 
bell still uttered its deep-toned music he saw her 
shiver again. Determining to break the silence that 
was at best only misery to him, he laughed shortly. 

“ Poor little girl,” he said lightly, “ are you so 
sleepy ? ” 

“ No,” she answered seriously, still looking away from 
him. “ I am waking up now. See, it is beginning to 
grow pink over yonder above the tree tops. And listen 
to that bell! Isn’t it all — ah, I can’t express myself; 
it is something that one cannot describe and can only 
feel — don’t you understand — the powerful silence, the 
awful stillness of it all?” She looked earnestly into 
his eyes for sympathy as she went on. “ There is only 
one other thing as deeply tragic to me as this — the 
dawn, and that is that great thing over there.” She 
waved her hand toward the river that was concealed 
by the breadth of the fields and the trees that inter- 
vened. “ In either case,” she continued, speaking in 


115 


English as she always did when feeling deeply, “ you 
cannot see the power, you can only feel that it is there. 
Mountains tower above, and you can realize the limit 
of their strength, and the sea murmurs and warns by 
constantly restless waves, but the river, and this, is so 
silent, so powerful, so alluring, that it almost makes 
me cry out in pain at the knowledge of its tremendous 
might and my own littleness. If they were not so still, 
so subtle in their coming, it would not seem so hard to 
understand, but they represent that awful unseen 
Something that bears us on against all struggle, all op- 
position. We can no more check the flowing of the 
one, than the coming of the other. Silently they both 
glide on and humanity seems, when compared with 
the force that drives them on, so weak, so utterly in 
vain. Think how we plan our lives, how we planned 
and carried out the great event of yesterday, and how, 
now, with the dawn of today it is all done and cast 
away like a dead flower. We, exhausted and unable 
to go any further, must stop to rest while this uncon- 
trollable something goes on, never ageing, ever, ever, 
ever, in a seeming great circle, and we wonder if it ever 
had a beginning or will ever have an end! The un- 
familiarity of it all is what makes it seem so unreal. 
I, too, feel strange and as though I did not belong to 
my body or any one particular place. Such a yearning 
for something better — such a realization of my own 
limitations, makes me almost cry out in despair 1 ” As 
she spoke she leaned further forward; still looking at 
her companion’s down-cast face, she touched his arm. 
“ Do you not feel the awful mystery of it, too? ” 

“ No! ” Durieux answered in his short, cold English. 

“ Mr. Durieux ! — ” 

Jules turned his head and feasted bis eyes upon what 
to him was the greatest mystery of all that had ever 
emanated from a creator’s hands. Instead of the cry 


116 


that she spoke of suppressing, he closed his lips tightly 
to control the groan of misery that almost burst his 
heart. Her earnest face in its pallor showed white and 
wierd in the grey gloom, and her eyes, defying sleep, 
looked wide and black. What would he not forfeit for 
one moment of ecstasy that was his if he dared but 
snatch it. They were all alone, surrounded by the 
wide open fields, in the midst of the languid dawn. 
Mr. Barrett had driven on briskly while he was lost in 
abstraction, and was entirely out of sight. Durieux 
still looked upon her, outwardly cold and calm. What 
would he not give for one moment in which to clasp 
that tired angel-like form, with its restless, questioning 
spirit, in his arms and hold her, his! With his pas- 
sionate kisses to claim her as his own, if but for an 
instant before she gave herself to that other, entirely 
and for always I 

He gazed into the upturned face so near his own, for 
what seemed a long time, and when at last he could 
control his voice, he laughed gratingly. Nellie, who 
was attuned only to the sublimity of the coming day, 
almost hated him for his harsh mirth. 

“No,” he cried hardly, “familiarity brings contempt 
no doubt, and perhaps if you had to be up every morn- 
ing when that bell rings and watch the glow of dawn- 
ing day streak the east simultaneously with the nigger 
putting plow gear on his mule, you would find the 
greatest mystery, the greatest human limitations, not 
in the inevitable dawn, but in the inevitable revolution 
of eternal toil ! ” As Durieux spoke, he felt his voice 
grow stronger, and assuming a half heroic tone to con- 
ceal the sarcasm in his soul, he made the girl laugh in 
spite of herself. As tantalizing, teasing as ever, she 
saw in him only the man she knew in her childhood, 
and, shrinking from what she believed was his inability 
to understand her, she sought escape from his criticism 
in ironical retreat. 


117 


“ Oh, you wicked thing ! ” she laughed, forcing her 
gayety. “ How can you disenchant me so ! Ilere you 
are again, filling your favorite role of my iconoclast.” 
She simulated his tragic air with half childishness 
taking the place of his acrimony. 

‘‘Don’t you know,” she began, “ — no you don’t, be- 
cause it’s a secret, and you musn’t tell — but really, the 
only reason I ever wanted to be a man, apart from when 
I was little, and wanted to be a boy so as to have plenty 
of pockets, was, that if I were a man I could stay up 
all night long, and watch every phase of its wonderful 
beauty.” 

“Well, why don’t you any way?” Durieux asked 
teasingly. 

Nellie laughed, embarrassed, and admitted “ Because 
I’m afraid.” 

Durieux threw his head back and laughed heartily, 
this time with the true ring of mirth in his tones. 

“ Is you skeered o’ ghos’es ? ” he whispered mysteri- 
ously, drawing himself together, and crouching into 
the farthest corner of his side of the buggy, his eyes 
rolling in true negro fright. 

“No,” Nellie answered slowly and reflectively, “I 
am not afraid of ghos’es; I’m afraid of that great mys- 
tery I was telling you of ; and of the utter loneliness — 
the feeling that I was the only thing alive. Really,” 
she went on after a moment’s pause, “ if I was a boy, 
I would jump on my horse, and dash across the country, 
never missing a single moment of a beautiful moon- 
light night.” 

“That would be a good scheme,” commented Du- 
rieux, nodding his head in mock approval. “You 
know, then you would be up to see that the hands went 
to the field on time without the trouble of getting up 
for the purpose. If you were a boy you’d have another 
advantage too, you see. You’d have to work.” 


118 


Nellie was disgusted. “I am not going to talk to 
you any more,” she pouted. “ You are determined to 
be prosy and ridicule everything I say ! ” She drew 
herself as far from him as she could and looked at him 
severely. 

Durieux began whipping his horse and urging him 
forward. “ Get-up Prince, let’s put Miss Nellie out of 
our buggy as soon as we can ; she’s naughty,” he said 
without looking at her again, and in a few moments 
they had drawn up at the gate, where Mr. Barrett 
was helping Stella, limp with sleep, out of the surrey. 

It was almost daylight, and a few contrary chickens 
had already gotten over the fence and were sauntering 
among the flower beds. 

Durieux, with pretense of great haste, helped Nellie 
out of his buggy, and leaving her at the front steps with 
her mother, drove off, while the others went into the 
house. As the sun in gilded red showed above the 
wood across the river, Nellie fell into a deep dreamless 
sleep, and Durieux reached the house on Englehart, 
five miles further on. 

He passed by the kitchen on his way to his room, 
and asked the old darkey to bring him cofiee there. 
When he reached his apartment, he slowly took ofi his 
evening coat and laid it over the back of a chair, and 
untied his cravat ; then he tossed it away, and seating 
himself near the chair, drew a long, white kid glove 
from an inner pocket of the coat, and gazed upon it. 
It was of no further use to its owner now; she had 
dropped it in the bottom of the buggy where the dew 
had fallen heavily, and there was a print of a slipper-toe 
on the long wrist. Jules took his handkerchief and 
carefully wiped oflf all the dust except that left by the 
waxed shoe; then folding it in the handkerchief, to- 
gether with the button-hole bouquet she had pinned 
upon his coat, he laid the little package in the bottom 


119 


of his trunk, under everything else, and closed the lid 
upon it. 

He swallowed his coffee, and exchanging the rest of 
his evening clothes for a sunburnt suit that better ac- 
corded with his avocation, he went into the lot to watch 
the darkies getting their cotton sacks and baskets ready 
for the day’s work. 

Arthur Wheeler drove up, gave his horse and buggy 
over to the hostler and without talking to anyone, went 
to his room in the store and tumbled like a log upon 
his bed, where he slept the sleep of untroubled nature 
until noon. 


CHAPTER XIIL 


It had been intensely hot all day. The October sun- 
shine poured down like a flood of molten brass, until 
the parched earth turned away, and only slanting rays 
were left to steal across its face. There had been a cool 
spell with a timid frost a few days before, that made 
the present heat seem all the more unbearable. As the 
first sunset breeze floated across the river, it fluttered 
the dusty ribbons on the hat of a tired, panting woman, 
and swept across her moist face like blessed balm. 

“ Ah, that good ! ” the woman sighed. She put the 
two worn satchels she carried, down upon the road side, 
and turned her face to catch the soft breeze in all its 
refreshing gentleness. 

She looked about her with the glance of one who has 
been away and is glad to be back once more and find 
everything just as it should be. It vras all there, all 
that she expected ; the narrow, dusty roadway with its 
wide, deep field of drying stalks and snowy, drooping 
cotton on the one hand, and the ditch bank hidden by 
rank vegetation, shoulder high, on the other. Even the 
bob-white calling in the wild coffee over the levee, was 
just as it was every fall when she came. The golden- 
rod and purple astors on the ditch bank stood stately 
and radiant, challenging the cotton across the way to 
hold as high a head as they, nodded gorgeous plumes 
at Omene as the evening zephyrs stirred their foliage, 
and the lower ageratum, only half as tall, looked up 
and waved her pretty blue blossoms in welcome ; her 
statlier cousin inclined her fragrant white tufts, and 
gave up a portion of her sweets for the returned wan- 
derer’s joy. 


120 


121 


Omene Kirrch loved it all, and breathed in the wild 
flowers’ perfume with a sense of gladness that she was 
with it now, once more. A gentle smile flitted over 
her yellow face ; she picked up her satchels and trudged 
on upon her way. 

She presently left the main road through Lilyditch, 
and taking a turnrow, soon came in sight of the house 
she was seeking ; the large cabin to the right, standing 
near the bank of a little bayou that wound through the 
plantation and lost itself, few people knew where. It 
was the narrow beginning of this stream that gave the 
place its name. Before it left the woods, it turned and 
twisted there, serpent like, in the shadow of the moss- 
hung trees, and all its length was filled with thick-set 
p der lilies, spreading their fragrant, long-legged cups 
tu catch the sunshine as it filtered through the great 
branches overhead. 

Yes, Omene loved it all; the cotton-fields, the wild 
flowers, the waving grey moss, the white spider lilies 
and everything that was a part of her adopted home. 
She loved its very name ; its softly flowing syllaibles re- 
minded her of her native tongue, and she loved Louis- 
iana’s sunny skies because nowhere else were they so 
clearly blue. 

In her roving she had become familiar with the 
state’s physiography from its most northern boundary, 
on along the mighty river, to the salty sands of the 
gulf. She had trodden the ground and wandered be- 
tween the bayous and lakes that surrounded Durieux’ 
old home in the south, and the cotton-fields of the 
north. From the black buckshot soil of the alluvial 
east, she had wandered through the dark mud of the 
swamps, where the undergrowth of the woodland, made 
up of matted vines and impenetrable canebrakes, 
formed a jungle so dense that only the skillful hunter, 
in quest of the remaining beast of prey lurking in its 


122 


depths, dared penetrate. On past the haunts of the 
deer and past the lakes whose sparkling waters, veiled 
over with disc-leaved water lilies and their showy blos- 
soms, reflected the blue of summer skies, or later held 
up brown well filled challices ready above the icy 
waters for the wild ducks that came with muttering 
wings to rest and feast in seclusion upon their chilled 
placid bosoms. Past all these to the red clay hills, 
where the pine trees sway above ferns that lift broad 
feathery leaves beside the thread-like streams watering 
their dark roots and the scanty tufts of grass or scat- 
tered weeds that find nourishment in the sandy, pebble 
filled soil. 

There was hardly a nook in the scores of parishes 
that Omene had not visited during the long years s];ie 
plied her trade and sought the section most promising 
of financial success. This section she believed she had 
found; the country that surrounded Sigma and Asola 
was now what she called her headquarters, and from 
the time the first gin whistle’s shrill notes split the 
autumn air until the last bale of cotton was shipped, 
she worked at her business closely, going when the 
season was done to the city, where companionship of 
her own class could he found, or to the uplands where 
cold springs bubbled with health giving waters, but 
she never left Louisiana. 

This slightly built, wiry woman, with a skin as dark 
as a mulatto’s yet with nothing else but her coloring 
to suggest African blood, was almost forty years old. 
Her long black hair, straight and glossy, was neatly 
kept; her lips were red, and her straight thin nose was 
regular and well proportioned to her slender body. 

She never spoke of her past voluntarily, and when 
asked about it smiled frankly, as if there was nothing to 
tell. She said she came from Syria and landed in New 
Orleans twenty years ago. There her uncle met her 


123 


and took her to his house until she learned to speak 
the two important languages of the city. By that time 
she had worked at various employments and had saved 
a little money of her own ; and then, yielding to the 
dictates of her roving nature and partly persuaded by 
a friend, she invested her savings in a few cheap 
trimmings, some needles and thread, and putting these 
into a satchel, she started forth. Finding the work 
congenial she had followed it ever since. 

That she had made money, the Syrian never ac- 
knowledged. She always wore plainest clothing, and 
her old satchel with its worn corners and rusty sides 
did not proclaim prosperity. She admitted that she 
had saved money and sent for her young brother, and 
after he arrived provided him with a pack of goods. 
She sent the young fellow to school during the summer, 
and in the busy season he shouldered his pack and was 
her companion in her trips from cabin to cabin. 

She meant to open a house some day when Shibli 
was old enough to care for the business and manage 
affairs, and Omene knew where she would get the 
money for the enterprise. She would send for her 
children then too, perhaps, if they would come, but 
they were both grown women, now, and might refuse 
to leave the grandmother they knew for the mother 
who was a stranger. She would have Shibli settle in 
a store, but as for herself she knew that no four walls 
could hold her restless being for many months at a 
time. 

It was twilight when Omene Kirrch arrived at her 
destination, and the odors of good homely fare arising 
from the cabin made her footsteps quicken. She was 
tired and hungry, and the savory smell of frying meat 
w^as delicious. A pack of dogs bounded from under 
the gallery as the peddler laid her hand upon the little 
yard gate, and a loud barking was begun which quickly 


124 


changed into yelps of delight as the Syrian’s sweet, 
musical voice called the old greeting they knew so well. 
As she entered and walked toward the steps, the dogs 
frisked about her, springing up almost to her shoulder 
in welcome, receiving her caresses in a frenzy of glee. 

The noise made by the dogs awakened an old woman 
from a twilight nap in the darkness of the house, and 
she came stumbling toward the door to inquire the 
cause of the uproar there; she too changed from senti- 
ments of suspicion to those of pleasure. 

One look was enough to convince the old darkey who 
the new comer was. Stopping her broad personage in 
the doorway, she plaofed her arms akimbo and with a 
generous smile of welcome upon her countenance, she 
shouted : 

“ Ella, come here ! What you reckon ! If here ain’t 
Miss Meny come back jest as natchul as ever! ” 

Ella left her biscuit dou<rh in a heap upon the board, 
and came running with floury fingers to better hear 
what her grandmother was saying. She was even more 
overjoyed than her grandmother at Miss Meny’s return, 
and, taking the two satchels from her, she followed her 
into the house, talking as she went. 

“ Here’s your room all ready for you, and ain’t nobody 
slept in it since you was here. Grandma jest made 
me sun the bed and things day ’fore yestiddy, cause 
she said : ‘ Ella, you get things ready, cause I boun’ 

Miss Meny’ll be back before the week’s out,’ and sho 
’nough, here you is.” 

All joined in the laughter of mingled pleasure and 
embarrassment engendered by newness of friends meet- 
ing again. The colored girl ran to the pump for fresh 
water for her guest to drink and to bathe her warm, 
dusty face. 

“Make yourself comfortable now, Miss Meny,” Ella 
said, bustling about and bestowing all the little atten- 


125 


lions in her power. She started back to her work, say- 
ing gaily as she reached the door : 

“I’ll run now and git supper, ’cause I knows how 
Miss Meny is. Miss Meny always ready for her supper, 
ain’t you, Miss Meny?” and with another burst of 
laughter, she hurried back to the kitchen. 

As Ella promised, she soon had the meal ready. She 
set a tin}" table with the accessories for one person, and 
after everything was placed upon it, clean and appeti- 
zing, though coarse, the peddler took her place and 
fell to partaking of the repast with an avidity that am- 
ply repaid the girl for the extra trouble she had taken. 

While Omene was enjoying her supper, the old 
woman and the girl seated themselves near, and old 
Harmony began to retail the news of the neighborhood 
with great zest. As she recounted everything that had 
happened during the Syrian’s absence, her husband 
and sons came in, but they only entered the dining 
room out of curiosity when they heard lively voices 
there, and after saying “ Howdy,” they went out to the 
front gallery to wait for their supper until the white 
woman had eaten hers. 

The dining room in old Aunt Harmony’s cabin was 
like every other part of the house, as clean as broom, 
scrubbing brush and dust cloth could make it, and in 
this respect difiered widely from the average negro’s 
abode. There was nothing in the minature apartment 
but the table, which could seat but two persons at a 
time, a small safe, and three or four chairs. It was only 
used upon special occasions or when boarders chanced 
along. 

Every peddler knew the house and knew that it had 
begun its existence as the usual double or two-room 
cabin, and afterwards had been added to from all sides, 
until now it contained eight rooms in all. They knew, 
too, that old Mingo Green and his family were emi- 


126 


nently respectable colored citizens ; the former being an 
elder in the church and also a carpenter of some skill 
and experience. Everybody liked Aunt Harmony 
well; there was a good deal of her to like, too. Her 
two hundred pounds of solid brown covered flesh, 
seemed filled with only the best intentions toward 
every one. Charity and goodness of heart were her 
prevailing traits, and no one, white or black, ever lay 
upon a sick bed within her neighborhood without ex- 
periencing some kindly ministration of physic, nour- 
ishment or cheer from her hands. 

It was ten years ago that Omene Kirrch first made 
Aunt Harmony’s acquaintance. The occasion was one 
evening when she chanced upon the cabin, hungry 
and exhausted from a long tramp and asked to stay all 
night. From that time she was a regular patron of the 
cabin whenever happening near it at nightfall; and 
then it came to be that whenever she was not too tired 
to reach the house, she always went there for her night’s 
rest. It was she who suggested to Uncle Mingo that 
he build more rooms to his house, and that they make 
a habit of entertaining white travelers who came that 
way. 

As a rule there is nothing under the sun that a negro 
so abominates, so scorns, as “ po’ white trash,” or any 
white person who puts himself upon social equality 
with their race, but somehow the Greens never looked 
upon “ Miss Meny ” in that light. They knew that she 
was not ‘‘quality,” of course, but they always treated 
her with respect, and they liked her genuinely. 

As Omene began to talk more and eat less, showing 
that her healthy appetite was appeased, her attention 
was suddenly arrested by the cry of a little child in the 
adjoining room. She looked up quickly. 

“ Ah, Ella,” she inquired musically, “your baby? I 
had forgot you have one baby ! Let me see?” 


127 


The girl went into the next room and brought her 
boy, just awakened from a late nap, and held him out 
for inspection proudly. She had hastily washed his 
face and put a fresh white slip upon him that made his 
bright little face gleam all the browner by contrast. 
His short hair stood in close crisps, like spun jet, all 
over his head. He was a fine little fellow, plump and 
lively, with great round eyes that were a miracle of the 
whitest white and blackest black. He was just ten 
months old, and being the child of one who was little 
more than a child, for Ella was barely seventeen at his 
birth, he was as sunny tempered and playful as a happy 
kitten. 

Every clean baby darkey and every baby pig has a 
charm all his own. Both look so thoroughly aoimal 
and lift such questioning flat-nosed little faces, that 
one involuntarily wishes they might always be kept in 
their pristine state of innocence. There is something 
so independent, too, about them both ; so sublimely in- 
difierent to all earthly struggles and woes. 

Miss Meny held up her hands to the pretty child, 
and with a crow he sprang into her arms, and was 
folded tightly to the hungry heart of the lonely ped- 
dler. If Omene had a weakness, it was for children ; 
she petted all who came within her reach, and perhaps 
there was something in this happy child’s dark laugh- 
ing face and round chubby limbs that reminded her 
of the babies she had once hugged close to her bosom 
in the long ago. Omene never spoke of her husband 
except to say that he was dead, but the little children 
she had borne and loved were often recalled in her talk. 

While the three women were playing with the baby, 
and laughing at his cunning little tricks, Ella heard a 
well known sound. A whip-poor-will, rather uncom- 
mon though it is, was sometimes heard calling from the 
trees near the cabin. The girl lifted her head and lis- 


128 


tened without attracting attention, and again the soft 
low call was heard. She arose and went quietly from 
the room, passing around the back way, and was soon 
under a large cottonwood that stood a hundred yards 
or so from the house on the bayou bank. As she drew 
near, a figure glided out into tlie twilight and taking 
the girl in his arms, kissed her fondly. 

“Oh Burrill,” she cried, “I’m so glad you come! 
You ain’t been to see me for most a week.” Ella re- 
turned his caresses warmly, and then questioned: 
“ What made you whistle? Why didn’t you come on 
to the house?” 

“Miss Meny has done come back.” 

“ La, how did you know?” she asked in surprise. 

Burrill laughed. “ I seen her through the window ; 
she was eatin’ her supper.” 

“ Ain’t she lookin’ well ? Burrill, she took on might- 
ily over the baby,” the girl added proudly. “ She say 
he’s the prettiest colored child she. ever seen in her 
life.” 

“ She’s mighty right there, too,” the man returned 
emphatically. 

The two sat down on the ground beneath the tree 
and talked for some time, then the girl started up. 

“ I must go,” she said, “ or grandma will think I 
don’t ’low to help her wash up the dishes tonight. 
Come on to the house. I ain’t had my supper yet and 
we can eat together.” 

“ All right,” he said, catching her hand and gently 
pulling her back to her place beside him. “ I’ll go, but 
don’t hurry, darlin’, I want to talk to you some more 
out here first, it’s so nice and cool out here. Honey,” 
he went on, after she was again seated, “I got to get 
you to attend to somethin’ for me. I got to send you — ” 

“Oh, Burrill!” the girl cried reproachfully. “You 
promised you wouldn’t ever ask me to do that again ! ” 


“ Well, but, pretty thing, I can’t help it. I’m ’bliged 
to have you,” he coaxed. 

“ Get one of the men.” 

“ Dog gone the men ! They ain’t any of ’em got 
sense enough to git out of the rain ! ” 

“ Darlin’, why don’t you stop this whole ’spisable 
business?” Ella asked coaxingly. 

The man sat in moody silence, twisting one thumb 
around the other, thoughtfully. 

Burrill, I got to go. Grandma’ll be callin’ me.” 
Again she started up, but Burrill caught her dress and 
prevented her rising. He twined his arms about her 
and drew her upon his knees. He kissed her tenderly, 
passionately, and called her by every endearing name 
he could think of, until she laughed happily. He held 
her close to him, and when she had forgotten her dis- 
tress of a few moments before, he asked gently : 

“What time you goin’ to start, precious?” 

The girl raised her head from his shoulder where he 
had pressed it, and answered sullenly : “ I ain’t goin’.” 

“ Well,” said Burrill resignedly, after a pause. He 
raised Ella to her feet as he got up himself. “ Goodbye 
then, darlin’, I got to go. I was goin’ to stay, but it I 
got to see one of the men, I got to get on back home 
tonight.” He kissed her lovingly and turned to go, 
but the girl threw her arms around his neck and held 
him, pleading : 

“Don’t go — don't go yet! Just stay five minutes 
longer, Burrill, I ain’t seen you for so long.” 

He returned her kisses warmly, but persisted : “ I got 
to go, sweetheart, don’t you see it’s gettin’ late ? ” He 
put her from him, but as soon as he released her she 
sprang back and clung to him as before. He pressed 
his powerful arms about her in a slow quivering em- 
brace, and kissed her dark face on brow, cheek and 
neck, then again upon her lips, with all the strength 


130 


of his commanding nature. He felt her sink in his 
arms till her head lay in rest upon his breast. She 
sighed restfully, and closed her eyes. 

“ Burrill,” she whispered, “ if I do it this time, will 
you swear you won’t ever ask me again ? ” 

He raised her until she looked into his face. 

“ Ella, I ain’t goin’ to make you no more promises. 
You know I ain’t a goin’ to make you do nothin’ 
against your will, bad as I needs you, but I’ll just tell 
you ; if you’ll go this time. I’ll give you anything you 
want.” 

“No you won’t, Burrill.” 

“Yes I will, darlin’. Ask for anything in this world 
you want and I’ll give it to you.” 

The girl looked keenly into the dear face before her, 
almost hidden by the coming darkness, and repeated 
sadly : “ No you won’t, Burrill.” 

“Now how do you know, precious?” he queried 
lightly, affecting not to understand her meaning. 

“ Because it’s done been asked.” 

Burrill heard the quiver in her voice and knew that 
her lips were trembling. Again he pressed her to him 
and kissed her, but she pushed him back gently. 

“ Honey,” he said solemnly, “ I declare before God 
I’d marry you if I could, but you know I’m married 
by law to Martha, and she’d raise the devil if she knew 
how I love you.” 

“Well, you ain’t livin’ with Martha.” 

“ I know I ain’t, but she wouldn’t let me live in any 
peace with you. She’d have the law on her side.” 

“ Get a divorce,” the girl said, tersely. 

“ Well, I might do that,^’ he said reflectively. “But 
if I did, you know Sallie would raise Cain. Besides,” 
he went on, sinking his voice, “ Martha knows too 
much. What makes you keep botherin’ yourself, Ella? 
You knows that I loves you. better than anything on 


131 


earth, and gives you more than I ever gave any other 
woman in my life.” 

“ ’Tain’t that I care so much. Pm satisfied when 
you come to see me as often as you can, hut grandpa 
keeps worryin’ hisself and letting the elders talk him 
into frettin’ about it, till I don’t have no peace.” 

“ Don’t you let what they say worry you one bit, 
darlin’ ; you know Pd marry you in one minute if it 
wasn’t for Martha.” 

“ I suppose it ain’t never occured to you to send 
Martha out of the way,” she said bitterly. One no 
’count woman is worth twenty men, I reckon — ” 

“Hush, Ella,” Burrill said quickly, “Some one 
might hear you. Come now, birdie, say what you 
want me to give you and you shall have it.” 

The girl was silent. She stood pressing her toe into 
the soft earth of a cotton row near the tree. 

“ Next to you,” she said at last, “ I want a horse and 
buggy of my own.” 

“ Ah, that’s the way I like to hear you talk ! Say 
what you want, and get it, too. While you down in 
Vicksburg, you pick out the nicest horse and buggy 
you can find, and pay for it on the spot. I’ll give you 
the money in the mornin’ before you start.” 

The girl squeezed his arm rapturously, and laughed 
contentedly. 

“ I don’t want no Vicksburg horse, though,” she 
said presently. “ I want old Uncle Jerry Smith’s little 
bay mare. He’s talkin’ ’bout soilin’ her. She’s fine 
under saddle, and harness, too.” 

“ Go over there then and get her now, so you can 
have her to ride in the mornin’, and you can pick out 
your buggy and come back in it.” 

“That’ll be just splendid! Wonder if Unc’ Jerry’s 
gone to bed yet ? ” 

“No, I reckon not; it ain’t late for him. What do 
Unc’ Jerry want for her ? ” 


132 


“ He say he’ll take fifty dollars for her, cash.” 

Coleman stepped near enough to the tree to make it 
and his body appear as one in the faint lingering light, 
and taking off a belt he wore beneath his clothing, his 
sharp memory and sense of touch enabled him to count 
out the necessary amount of bill accurately, and these 
he handed in a roll to the girl. 

“ Thanky, sir, more’n a thousand times! ” Ella said 
gratefully, putting the money away in her bosom. The 
two started then hand in hand in the direction of Jerry 
Smith’s cabin, standing on a turnrow five minutes 
walk further front in the field. 

“ Ella,” said Coleman as they walked along, if I 
was you I wouldn’t buy a right new buggy, you know, 
because people might think it funny how you could 
get a horse and buggy too, all of a sudden.” 

“ That’s so,” she acquiesed. 

“ Of course, I’ve made a good crop, and anybody’d 
know I was able to give ’em to you but — ” 

“ Um — boo, yes, I know ; it’s better to be on the safe 
side.” 

When they drew near enough to the cabin to hear 
the family on the gallery talking, Burrill dodged be- 
hind a little log cotton-house, and Ella went on alone. 

Her trade was quickly concluded, and old Jerry went 
with her to where the animal was secured by a rope 
tied to a stob driven into the ditch bank, and untying 
the knots, he handed the rope to her. 

“You want to borry a saddle so you can ride her 
home, honey ? ” 

“No, nem mind. I’ll just ride her bareback that 
little way. I’d like to get a halter, though, if you can 
spare one.” 

“ Son,” said the old darkey to a boy who had fol- 
lowed them, with regret, to where the pet was tied, for 
he hated to see her sold, “ Son, git Ella that bridle 
hangin on de side de chimney.” 


133 


As they waited for the boy to return, Ella unneces- 
sarily lied glibly : “ I come for Betty tonight, so I could 
ride her up the river tomorrow to see my cousin. I 
won’t be back till tomorrow night,” she added, “ but 
I’ll ask grandpa to fetch the bridle back in the mornin’.” 

“ That’s all right, honey. I ain’t afeerd o’ not gettin’ 
it back. Good night; I wish you a pleasant trip to- 
morrow.” 

Ella Green mounted her purchase with the activity 
of a cat, and started off briskly. She passed the cotton- 
house without turning her head, but as soon as she was 
far enough from the cabin for the tall cotton and the 
darkness to conceal her, she slipped down and waited 
for Coleman to come up with her, then together they 
walked on to Elder Green’s house. 




9 


CHAPTER XIV. 


Omene Kirrch was returned to what she called home, 
ready with closely packed satchels to resume her work. 
She was a week or two later. than usual, on account of 
having been detained in New Orleans with Shibli, who 
was very ill; but she was come at last, and Shibli 
Saleem, the brother, would come, too, as soon as he 
was strong enough to bear his share of the burden. 
There was many a dime, now, to be picked up from 
cabin to cabin ; for every darkey that was physically 
able, from the oldest to the little chaps who stood on 
tiptoe to reach the topmost bolls, was between the cot- 
ton rows from the drying of the dew to the setting of 
the sun, picking the beautiful fleece, with never a 
thought to its wondrous whiteness, nor its illimitable 
possibilities; snatching it from its stems and stuffing 
it into bags, that perhaps were once purely white in 
these same fields, with never a care, never an object, 
but to gather so many pounds per day and receive so 
much hard cash per hundred in emolument therefor. 

The season was at its heiglU, and Lilyditch gin 
was the scene of bustle and activity. The iron-covered 
engine-house, with its furnace glowing like a jewel, 
was sending its vitality through the pulsing belts and 
humming brushes ; and up in the lint room the snow- 
flake fibre was issuing, fold upon fold, in thick widths, 
to be clutched up by black arms and thrown into the 
yawning press, whose jaws crushed together over the 
downy cud, and finally tossed it out again, a hard, iron- 
bound block, for other black arms to snatch aside and 
send tumbling down the incline upon the ground 
below. Amid all this buzz of machinery and human 
134 


135 


industry, there was the air of leisure that is a part of 
the negro’s social economy. Every man not caught 
red-handed in the act of labor, would have been sup- 
posed to be an individual with neither cause nor incli- 
nation for toil. He lounges around aimlei^sly, joking 
wdth his fellows, or whittling a stick; and if not seated 
or lying down, invariably leaning his loosely-adjusted 
anatomy against a wall, a post, or anylhing else that 
will afford him physical support and take the respons- 
ibility of sustaining his mortal part aside from his 
own exertions. 

Mr. Barrett was seated upon his horse in the cotton 
yard, talking to the manager of Lilyditch, who stood, 
brush and pot in hand, marking bales of cotton, and 
between strokes of his brush directing the hauling of 
it over to the landing. From September to March 
there were few days of Mr. Barrett’s life that were not 
fully occupied from sunrise to night. He took the 
marks of the cotton now, counted the bales, took the 
samples that Mr. McStea had put aside for him, and 
hurried away to Englehart, where the same duties 
awaited him, and must be accomplished before dark. 

Indian summer prevailed in all its dreamy beauty. 
Its sun gleamed round and rosily through the smoky 
ether, and the wood was hiding behind this hazy 
autumnal veil, that it might flash forth in its new 
garb of crimson and gold, a dazzling surprise, w'hen 
the first winter sun dispelled the mists of the Indian’s 
traditional pipe of peace. 

Mr. Barrett rode along the little bayou, and had 
almost reached the strip of wooded swamp that sep- 
arated Lilyditch from Englehart, when he suddenly 
came upon a well-known figure, that had crossed the 
dried bayou and emerged through the willow saplings 
just in front of him. A gun was upon the man’s 
shoulder, and trotting at his heels was another familiar 
figure — the personage of a lanky, underfed hound. 


136 


Mr. Barrett reined up his horse as soon as the hunts- 
man crossed his path, and stared first at the negro and 
then at his faithful follower, the yellow dog. Every- 
thing about the former proclaimed contented careless- 
ness, from the shapeless old hat upon his head — sun- 
burned beyond recognition of its former hue — on down 
the faded, ragged, patched clothing, to the rough shoes, 
that had never been blacked since the time they left 
the manufacturer’s hands to the . present day, when 
they clung to their wearer’s feet, burst in almost every 
seam, and showing by bulges here and toe-shapes there 
that they had adapted themselves to the idiosyncra- 
cies of what they inclosed. 

The longer Mr. Barrett sat and looked at the negro, 
the higher his usually placid temper rose, until his 
face fiushed and the veins on his forehead stood out 
heavily. 

The darkey touched his hat politely. Smothering 
an imprecation beneath his breath, Mr. Barrett said 
with his usual urbanity. 

“Ah, Nathan, going hunting, I see.” 

“Yes’r,” the man returned cheerily. “I thought 
us ’d enjoy a squ’r’l, or a ’possum, maybe, for our 
supper.” 

“Yes? How’s your crop panning out? Have you 
finished picking cotton ? ” 

Nathan shifted his weight from one foot to the other, 
and answered, contentedly : 

“ Well, sir, my crap’s putty fair, but I ain’t finished 
pickin’ yet. Ain’t got more’n three or four acres to 
pick out though.” 

The curb that Mr. Barrett had put upon his temper 
snapped like lightning, and he hashed out furiously : 

“You confounded black raScal! Do you mean to 
tell me that you have something like three bales of 
cotton in the fields yet, and you out here piking 
around after an abominable little squirrel ? ” 


137 

Nathan again shifted his weight, and scratched his 
head in perplexity. 

“ Boss,” he began, slowly, “ didn’t us settle up our 
’count at our las’ ginnin’ ? ” 

‘‘Yes!” 

“ Boss,” he again questioned meekly, casting his eyes 
up sideways at Mr, Barrett. “ Boss, us — er — Boss, I 
don’t owe you nothin’, do I ? Didn’t my las’ ginnin’ 
pay all my Ian’ rent an’ — a — all the grub I got too ? ” 

Mr. Barrett looked down into the darkey’s humble 
countenance. The corners of his mouth twitched, and 
with difficulty he suppressed his laughter as the phi- 
losophy of the negro’s point of argument flashed upon 
him. Bull, who had pricked up his ears and looked 
from Mr. Barrett to his master, and back again, when 
the first angry words left the former’s lips, had satisfied 
himself that there was no quarrel on hand, and after 
yawning twice, settled himself for a nap. 

Nathan still looked into his master’s face for an an- 
swer. Mr. Barrett allowed himself to smile, and said : 

“No, sir; you do not owe me a cent. And I sup- 
pose if it suits you to let your cotton hang in the field 
until the rains beat it out upon the ground, I have no 
right to complain. It simply leaves your pocket and 
fertilizes my land.” He waved his hand toward the 
woods. “ Go ahead ; if it isn’t squirrel or ’coon today, 
it will be whisky later on. Your wife and children 
will at least share your supper.” He laughed, and 
added: “Good-by, Nathan. I wish you luck.” 

The happy-natured negro grinned broadly. “ So 
long. Boss. Much obleeged to you.” 

Nathan looked after Mr. Barrett, with a puzzled ex- 
pression clouding his countenance, until he was out of 
sight. He aroused his dog, by and by, with a merry 
whistle, and the two plunged into the woods. 

Mr. Barrett rode on his way, muttering below his 


138 


breath : “ Blessed race — living literally after one, at 

least, of Christ’s holy ordinances.” He shook his reins 
and murmured : “ ‘ Lay not up for yourselves treas- 

ures upon earth, where moth and rust doth corrupt, 
and thieves break in and steal.’ ” 

Mr. Barrett was detained at Englehart until late, 
and it was almost midnight when he again entered 
Sigma ; and as he did so, he was nearly run into by 
some excited negroes who were rushing toward the 
end of the village he had just passed through. 

» jfc sfc ^ 

When Sigma was put upon rollers and dragged 
piecemeal from the caving bank of the encroaching 
river, some fifteen years ago, it was located in an old 
field, and, as it happened, near the gin house; and 
this building, after the lands about it were divided 
into town lots, gradually fell into disuse. The boiler 
and gin-stand were taken away and sold, and the old 
weather-beaten building stands there still, used as a 
hay-loft sometimes, and as a resort for the negroes’ 
favorite sport — the illicit game of craps. Time and 
again the District Attorney secured the participants of 
an unusually audible game, and those who did not 
have the requisite ten dollars to appease the parish’s 
laws, had the privilege of boarding at the parish’s 
expense for thirty days. Yet with the jail doors 
always yawning between the negro and the crap- 
table, the latter had its coterie of professional votaries 
and its group of sometime players, with no abatement 
of members. The old disused gin-house was an admir- 
able nook for such secret conclaves, and became a 
regular resort for nightly meetings. 

It was Saturday night, and one after another the 
men began dropping in at “OF Aunt Ginnie’s,” as 
they facetiously called the den. The few candles 
upon the table threw a ghostly gloom about the dark 


139 


walls of the big room. The table, the size of an 
ordinary dinner-table, was constructed of boards from 
packing boxes, and had a slender strip nailed around 
the edge to keep the dice from falling off. Over this 
was spread an old blanket, and the candles were stuck 
upon it by means of their own melted grease. 

The wind whistled through the cracks in the walls 
and made the candle flames leap and flutter, and giant 
shadows of the men danced upon the sombre walls, like 
distorted demons over a newly-descended soul. Every 
now and then a boisterous “Hyah, by ah, hyah!” of 
laughter rang through the old building, and between 
each shout the thrower’s voice was heard. 

“ Gim me room here, gentl’men,” he probably says 
first, and then picking up the dice, he steps back, with 
one foot planted before the other, and bending eagerly 
forward, he swings his whole arm, and with a lurch of 
his loosely-jointed shoulders, he rolls the dice from his 
hand, calling : 

“ Cornin’ to git you ! ” 

The dice fall with ten up, and he picks them up 
with a flourish. 

“ Gentl’men, make dat ten for a quarter ! Shoot 
’em agin ! Let ’er roll ! Come ten ! Got you faded ! 
Seven or ’leven ! Craps ! ! ” 

“ Hyah, hyah, hyah ! ” 

There were all ages and sizes of men standing around, 
playing, watching the play, betting, swearing, and 
using profane words with the lavishness that only a 
negro can enjoy, unprovoked by other than strong 
emotion. 

When the sport was at its height Allen Whitney 
sauntered in, and stood looking over a friend’s shoul- 
der. He stood for some time, with his hands in his 
pockets, looking on, but he declined to play, or to bet 
on those who were doing so. 


140 


Every one present seemed to have money. They 
had all been picking cotton, or ginning, and had been 
paid off that evening after sundown, for their week’s 
work. 

The stakes were large and the game intensely ex- 
citing, and Allen’s attention was fixed upon a big 
burly negro, a stranger to him, who seemed to be 
playing with unusual luck. He had been winning at 
a rate of three times to five, but it had come to the 
point where he won at almost every throw. This man, 
two other strangers, and Burrill Coleman were doing 
the principal betting, though others joined, now and 
then, when the stakes were not too high. Allen was 
standing between Coleman and the lucky negro, who 
seemed to be named “ Buck ; ” and he could see that 
Burrill was steadily losing his temper as his money 
changed hands. 

He threw another twenty-dollar gold piece upon the 
table, and with an oath more violent than any he had 
uttered yet, he exclaimed : 

‘‘ Win that too, you 

“Just as you say, Mr. Coleman,” the other negro 
returned, blandly, showing his teeth in a sardonic 
smile. 

“Give me room, gentl’men. Let her roll! Jim 
Hicks 1 Cornin’ to git you 1 Make that six agin, Mr. 
Coleman 1 Come six I Ah 1 ” 

Allen, watching the throws with every faculty 
strained to that end, saw the six come, as the man 
had announced, with never a crap intervening. He 
turned to Coleman, yelling in excitement: 

“Good God, Burrill, that nigger’s ringin’ in bosses 
on you I ” 

“What!” Coleman sprang at his adversary with 
uplifted fist, but the negro was too quick for him. He 
evaded Burrill’s descending blow, and before any one. 


141 


least of all his victim, could divine his intention, he 
snatched a razor from his bosom, and springing upon 
Allen, cut his throat so horribly that the poor boy 
sank upon the ground unconscious, covered with his 
own warm blood. 

Coleman was so staggered by the turn affairs had 
ta.ken that he could scarcely believe his senses. Allen’s 
friends disarmed the strange negro and bound him 
with a rope some one secured while the others were 
wresting the razor from his grasp. 

Coleman went up to him and glared furiously into 
the equally infuriated face of the murderer. 

“You fool/ Ain’t there no sense in your 

blasted head? What good are you now ? ” 

“ Ah,” cried one of his captors, “ Mr. Coleman, he’s 
all the good. If Allen Whitney dies — and God only 
knows what’s to keep him from it — this devil-nigger 
will find hisself between daylight and a piece of hemp, 
sho as I live to talk before a jury.” 

“Yes, Lawd ! ” came in chorus from the crowd. 

Coleman looked about him. Only Allen Whitney’s 
friends and the captive remained. The other two 
strangers had gone, and he, too, passed out of the 
house. Just outside the door he met old Dr. Smith 
coming hurriedly, and behind him was Allen’s mother, 
and several women who came running, partly from 
curiosity, partly from interest in the injured boy. 

The women ran shrieking into the gin, and the 
doctor stopped. 

“ Is he still alive? ” 

“ Yes sir,” Coleman answered. “ He’s breathing yet. 
Doctor, for God’s sake, keep him alive ! If Allen was 
to die,” he added more calmly, “ Fd blame myself all 
the rest of my life. I’m goin’ for Dr. Allison, now, to 
help you. Stay with him. Doctor, as long as he’s 
breathin’, and I’ll pay you for every minute of your 
time.” 


142 

Burrill hardly waited for the good old man’s promise ; 
but rushed on, and reaching his horse, galloped to 
Englehart, and on through that place to Lawren’s 
Station, covering the distance of fourteen miles in an 
incredibly short time. 

^ ^ 

Allen did not die. His assailant was taken to jail 
in Asola, and as soon as Dr. Smith and Dr. Allison — 
whose united efforts saved his life — pronounced Allen 
out of danger, the negro’s release was secured. But it 
was many a day, and only after careful nursing, that 
Allen returned to his work in the Barrett household. 


CHAPTER XV. 

When one man lies at the point of death, however 
anxiously his small world hangs upon the faintest 
changes in his condition, the other worlds that revolve 
around his, speed on, unchecked, in their appointed 
courses without knowledge or thought of the suspense 
in one isolated star. 

While Allen was lying day after day in a seemingly 
hopeless condition, attended almost hourly by two of 
the best of physicians, and having delicacies sent to 
him from the Barrett kitchen to nourish his rapidly 
wasting body into strength to do battle with the hide- 
ous wound constantly menacing his life, the handful 
of humanity immediately surrounding his sphere was 
all that remembered the gin-house casualty or gave it 
more than a passing thought. From the beginning of 
the cotton season until its end there is a steady flow of 
business interests that absorbs events and defies per- 
sonal interruption or individual suflering. When King 
Cotton and his high minister. Prince Seed, reign, al 
social crises save birth and death are forced to wait. 

Business resulting from an unusually good crop was 
occupying every one, and old Mr. Chaflin of Willow- 
burn was pretty tired when Saturday night came; and 
glad enough when it seemed that at last the negroes 
bad quit straggling in, and he could close the store and 
betake his tired body to bed. It was no light work to 
stand behind the counter of a plantation store all day 
long, and cater to the whims of negroes, many of whom 
were half drunk ; besides the task of watching all parts 
of the room at once to see that no stealing was done, 
and through all this, to keep down difficulties between 
143 


144 


customers that threatened to bring razors or pistols 
into use. 

Mr. Chaflin was long past his youth, and though 
still active and in excellent health, he was usually too 
fatigued when night came to care for much but dream- 
less, refreshing sleep. He had been at Willowburn 
two years and liked his work, but found the place op- 
pressively lonely at times. He longed for his wife and 
children to cheer him in his struggle for their support. 
He was a good man ; gentle, kind and indulgent. Far 
too indulgent, some of his friends thought when they 
contemplated his wife’s life of ease in the city, and 
thought of the lonely husband and father toiling in 
the plantation store, remote from all white associates. 

As Mr. Chaflin decided that his day’s work was done, 
and was barring the windows and door, he heard foot- 
steps sound upon the gallery and a tap upon the front 
door. 

“ Wait a minute. Mister,” a negro’s voice called out- 
side, “ wait a minute.” Mr. Chaflin opened the door 
again and a negro walked up to the part of the counter 
that served as a bar, and threw a dollar down upon it. 
Mr. Chaflin gave the man the whiskey he asked for, 
and while he was drinking this, two others lounged in 
and joined the first who invited them to drink with 
him. 

All three were strangers to Mr. Chaflin ; the first man 
who entered had come into the store during the after- 
noon and purchased a can of salmon and some crackers, 
which he ate leisurely near the stove; but the other 
two had never been there before that he knew of. 

It was very cold and a slow drizzling rain had been 
falling since dusk that seemed to pierce one to the 
very marrow with its icy breath. Mr. Chaflin 
washed the glasses the darkies used and put them 
back in their places upon the shelf, and was not 


145 


surprised as he did so that the men went up to 
the stove and stood warming themselves by its com- 
forting heat. He finished putting away the bottles 
of liquor and went to the stove too, where he held out 
his thin blue-veined hands to be warmed. The three 
negroes were looking about the store in idle curiosity 
as they stood in silence, and the old gentleman said 
kindly : 

“You fellows don’t live around here, do you?” 

“ No sir,” the man who came in first replied. “ We’s 
just over here on a little business.” 

The men still lingered near the heater, turning first 
one way and then another until the steam, accompa- 
nied by the invariable ill odor, arose from their damp 
clothing. 

The store on Willowburn was a very small affair, 
scarcely more than twenty by forty feet, and in the 
back was a small compartment cut off for the store- 
keeper’s use as a bed room ; yet small as it was, there 
was a good business done there, and often there was as 
much as a hundred or two hundred dollars taken in on 
a brisk Saturday. There was no other store within 
five miles of it, and the darkies on two or three ad- 
joining plantations congregated there at the close of 
each week to spend their cash and carouse with their 
friends. 

Mr. Chaflin, as he stood giving the darkies a chance 
to warm themselves thoroughly before he turned them 
out into the cold, fell into a light reverie from which 
he was recalled violently by finding himself surrounded 
by three unknown men, each with a cocked revolver 
within two feet of his head. He was so astonished 
that he stared before him dazed, realizing slowly the 
fact that he was utterly helpless. He dropped his 
hands at his sides and looked at the three villians sur- 
rounding him calmly, though his heart was beating 


146 


deafeningly and the blood rushed to his brain so fast 
that thinking seemed an impossibility. 

Like a flash, recollection of the atrocious murders 
that had filled the papers of his native state for the 
past few weeks recurred to his mind, and he recognized 
that he was in the identical position that the men 
in the counties across the river were when they lost 
their lives. He wondered if he were dreaming. He 
had read the accounts of robbery and murder, as they 
appeared in the daily papers, with such horror, that he 
believed he must be dreaming that he was one of the 
men who had been killed. 

The man who came first, and whom the other two 
called ‘‘Buck,” laughed. 

‘‘You see ole man,” he said, “we’s got de drop on 
you. Hit ain’t no use fur you to kick. Dick, go lock 
dat do’.” 

“ Hyah, hyah. Buck, you must take me fur a baby. 
I done dat when I fuss come in.” 

“What do you purpose doing?” asked Mr. Chaflin 
slowly. 

“Just keep your mouth shet; you’ll soon fine out. 
Here boys,” Buck went on, “ ’tain’t no use a all o us 
pintin our pistol at him ; you all keep him quiet while 
I gits de money. He ain’t got no pistol on ’caze hits 
’hind de counter by the cash draw an’ I borried his 
knife dis evenin’. Bud, if you wants to, you kin pick 
out a overcoat you said you wanted. Dick kin keep 
de ole man’s mouth shet.” 

“ I wants a pair pants,” muttered Dick. 

“No you don’t,” asserted Buck. “You don’t want 
no bundles in your way.” Saying this he turned to- 
ward the cash drawer and secured what money was in 
it. Putting it into his pocket he came back to Mr. 
Chaflin. 

“Come, ole man, they ain’t enough money here. 


147 


You must a slipped some of it into de safe today whilst 
I wasn’t a lookin’. Come, get it out quick; we got to 
hurry ! ” 

“ I refuse to open the safe,” said Mr. Chaflin firmly. 

Buck stared at him in amazement and then broke 
out iuto an uproarious laugh. 

“ Well I’ll be dog goned! Come here. Bud; he say 
he ain’t a goin’ to open de safe ! ” 

“Why Mister,” said Dick in remonstrance, “you 
can’t he’p yourse’f.” Three pistols were again leveled 
at the poor old man’s head. 

His wife, his children, his grand-children ! But for 
one chance to see them all once more! Silently he 
took the key of the little safe from his pocket and held 
it out. Buck took it and went to the back of the room 
where the safe stood, removed the money it contained 
and returned to his companions, leaving the iron door 
swinging open. 

“ Come ahead, boys,” he said, “ we got to be goin’.” 

“ Let him git his hat. Buck, ’tain’t no use carryin’ 
him out in de col’ like that,” said Bud, speaking for 
the first time. 

“ Go git it then,” said Buck. “ Hit’s hangin’ up in 
his room nigh de do’.” 

Bud went into the little room where Mr. Chaflin’s 
bed stood, and took the hat down from its peg. Notic- 
ing that an overcoat hung beside it, he hastily snatched 
it down also and went back to the store. Without a 
word he put the hat upon Mr. Chaflin’s head and held 
the coat ready for him. Mr. Chaflin adjusted his hat 
and thrust his arms into the sleeves of his coat, the 
man assisting him with a deftness that showed him ac- 
customed to the service. When the coat was on, Mr. 
Chaflin turned to him and said with his gentle simplic- 
ity : 

“ Thank you.” 


148 


“You welcome, sir,” muttered Bud, buttoning to his 
chin the new overcoat he had selected from the stock 
on the shelves. 

Buck moved toward the door. 

“ Will you kindly tell me where you intend taking 
me?” Mr. Chaflin asked when they had reached the 
gallery and Buck closed the door. 

“We just goin’ to take you up de road a little piece 
and leave you.” 

“ Why do you not leave me here ; my friends will at 
least find me, then ? ” 

“That’s just ’zactly what’s de matter. We don’t 
keer ’bout you bein’ found till we’s outter de way.” 

The men started forth in the cold rain, stumbling 
through the mud, and keeping their prisoner well 
guarded in their midst. It was not very dark, and as 
the party became accustomed to the change from lamp 
light to the moon’s dimmed rays, objects could be dis- 
cerned distinctly enough to guide them on their way. 
They trudged along the lonely road silently for nearly 
half a mile, when suddenly Buck paused, drawing the 
rest with himself into the shadow of the trees. 

“ Who is dat ahead of us ? ” he whispered. “ Hush, 
be still ! ” 

The person approaching drew nearer, and for the 
first time Mr. Chaflin’s heart gave a bound of hope. 
In the faint light he recognized the man approaching 
as one of the tenants on Willowburn; a strong, active 
young fellow, who prided himself upon his prowess as 
a wrestler and boxer. As Mr. Chaflin recognized him, 
each of his captors uplifted his pistol, and one of them 
was leveled at himself while the other two were aimed 
at the new comer. 

“ Halt! ” commanded Buck. 

“Hello, what’s the matter here? Good Lawd, Mr. 
Chaflin, is that you?” 


149 


“Yes, Rich, I am in the hands of these robbers, as 
you see.” 

“MyLawd! Why—” 

“ Here, cheese your racket,” commanded Buck. 
“ Fall into line ef you don’t want your brains blowed 
out.” 

“ Better tie them fellows together,” suggested Dick. 
“ I got de rope here.” The negro produced a strong 
slender cotton rope and first tied the mulatto’s hands 
behind him, then Mr. Chaflin’s, linking the two to- 
gether. The men moved on, slowly, through the deep 
mud. Several cabins with no lights, or sign of wakeful 
life visible were passed, but each time that one came 
in sight the revolvers were placed at the captives’ heads. 
Another half mile was gone over in this way. The 
rain ceased to fall and the clouds slowly drifted apart, 
making the way lighter and less difficult. 

Mr. Chaflin’s brain had cleared and he was deter- 
mined to make a struggle for his life, yet he saw no 
way to extricate himself and his fellow sufferer from 
the dangerous position. He managed to stumble and 
fall up against Rich, with his mouth close to the 
darkey’s ear. 

“ Keep up your courage. I see some one coming,” 
he whispered. 

He was right. Another man was coming toward 
them and he too, like Richard, was halted as soon as 
he was within reach of the pistols. It was a negro 
well known to both Mr. Chaflin and the darkey, and 
he in turn was astonished and alarmed by the crowd 
before him. Again Mr. Chaflin stumbled. 

“ Now’s our chance, watch!” 

“ All right, I’m loose.” 

Rich was loose. He had ingeniously held his hands, 
while they were being tied, in such a way that it was 
an easy matter to undo Dick’s bungling knots, and he 


10 


150 


had also managed to get his knife from his hip pocket 
and open its three-inch blade. He still held the rope 
in his hands so that he was seemingly as helpless as 
when first bound. 

The new addition to the party was a strong, able- 
bodied negro, too; but he was frightened out of his 
wits, and he failed to see the advantage his presence 
might be to the two men, who seemed to be com- 
pletely cowed. 

Buck spoke less boldly when he ordered the third 
prisoner to take his place beside the others, and Rich 
was quick to detect the change. He, too, had had time 
for reflection, and he knew that life was too dear to 
be given up without a struggle. The new man was 
pushed into place beside the mulatto, and the three 
ruffians took up stations behind, with pistols cocked, 
ready for use, in their cold, stiffened hands. 

Buck held a brief consultation with his partners, and 
following their mumbled replies, he commanded the 
party to turn from the road, to the right, and follow 
the cotton rows leading toward the woods. 

The frost and rain loosened soil of the field was 
almost impassible. The men sank in the mud above 
their ankles at every step. Rich stumbled against the 
friend at his side, whom the others had not dared to 
tie, and muttered : 

“ Get ready to fight! ” 

With these words, he wheeled about, plunged his 
knife into Dick, the villain nearest him, striking him 
backward into the mud. 

Mr. Chaflin had by this time succeeded in extricat- 
ing his hands from the rope, and being on the alert, 
he grabbed Dick’s pistol as he fell, and tried to empty 
its contents into the leader’s head, but Buck was too 
quick for him. He was taken aback by Rich and Mr. 
Chaflin’s rapid action at first, and thereby lost his 
chance of overpowering them. 


151 


Dick lay in the mud, wounded in his side, and Bud, 
firing his pistol wildly, turned and ran toward the 
wood, leaving Buck nothing else to do but follow his 
example ; and this he did, darting back to the road, 
with Mr, Chaflin pursuing him as best he could ; but 
Buck’s younger limbs did his bidding, and diving into 
the thicket of willows along the edge of the bayou, he 
was soon lost, and Mr. Chaflin was compelled to give 
up the pursuit. The old man turned unwillingly and 
retraced his steps to where he had left his companions, 
and there, to his chagrin, he found that Dick, too, had 
been allowed to escape,. 

Rich stood excitedly talking over the the part he 
had taken in the encounter from the time he met 
Mr. Chaflin and his would-be assassins, and the other 
negro was still so frightened that he scarcely knew 
what he was doing. 

When Mr. Chaflin rejoined them, baffled and dis- 
tressed at not recovering the money, yet, withal, 
thankful that his life was spared, there was nothing to 
be gained by lingering in the cold. 

“ Come, boys,” he said, “ I am terribly shaken up. 
Come on to the store, where we can get warm and dry 
once more.” 


CHAPTER XVL 


For several weeks prior to the robbery of Mr. Chaflin 
the newspapers had reported instances of robbery and 
murder committed in the counties across the river, 
which the Louisianians read with interest and regret ; 
but it was not until a robbery and like murder was 
attempted in their own midst that public sentiment 
was aroused to the fullest. Mississippi seemed infested 
by a gang of well-organized ruffians, whose deeds were 
so carefully executed that no trace of the perpetrators 
could be followed up. In each instance the crime was 
committed in an isolated store, but never in the same 
locality twice, and always the man or men who slept 
in the stores that were robbed were found dead upon 
the floor next morning by the first ^ customer who 
chanced that way. This thing went on, causing more 
distress and alarm as the weeks merged into months, 
until it culminated in the murder of a gentleman so 
highly esteemed and so well connected by blood and 
business interests with the best in the country, that 
the state authorities fully awakened to the exigency 
of some decided step, and every efibrt was put forward 
toward catching the gang, or at least its leaders. 

It was generally supposed that the atrocious crimes 
were committed by negroes, as strange darkies were 
always seen in the vicinity during the day that pre- 
ceded the crime, but the men who might have identi- 
fied the murderers were always left dead or in a 
speechless, dying condition. 

Following the excitement caused by the murder of 
Mr. Beresford, several arrests of suspicious characters 
were made, and one of these, turning state’s evidence, 
152 


153 


gave the names of two or three other negroes whom he 
swore were the organizers and leaders of the murderous 
band of robbers. 

This confession was made only a few days after Mr. 
Chaflin’s narrow escape with his life, and the news of 
it reached Sigma when the robbery at Willowburn was 
creating no small amount of interest. 

Jules Durieux and Arthur Wheeler, having ridden 
into Sigma together, where the matter was being thor- 
oughly discussed, were dumbfounded upon their return 
to Englehart to find that during their absence Missis- 
sippi officers had arrived at the plantation, by way of 
Asola, and arrested Burrill Coleman on the charge of 
implication in the murder of Mr. Beresford. 

Wheeler’s indignation was unbounded, and he ex- 
pressed himself in language rather more forceful than 
elegant. 

“ The idea of such a thing ! ” he said, thoroughly 
stirred, and not caring who heard him. “ Burrill 
Coleman leader of a gang of Mississippi toughs ! Why, 
I never heard of such a thing in all my life. Humph! 
next thing, Jules, I suppose, they’ll come and arrest 
you as leader of the Mafia.” 

Durieux sat before the stove thoughtfully, punching 
into the coals with the poker. “There is simply a 
mistake, Arthur, that is all,” he said. 

The store porter, who had informed the gentlemen 
of the arrest, still stood there, waiting another chance 
to speak. “ Mr. Wheeler,” he said at his first oppor- 
tunity, “Burrill got ’em to bring him by here, when 
they was startin’, and he axed me to tell you an’ Mr. 
Juror for God’s sake to get him out o’ this. He ’lowed 
you all knowed more about him than anybody else, 
an’ could do him a powerful sight o’ good ef you’ll 
testify for him.” 

“ Testify ? I should say I shall ! ” Wheeler asserted. 


154 


“ Why, I’ll go to Vickeburg myself and prove that 
Burrill Coleman is an innocent man.” 

“You may go, now, Louis,” said Durieux, quietly 
dismissing the porter. As soon as the darkey lelt the 
office and closed the door behind him, Durieux spoke 
again : 

“ This is a bad piece of business for Burrill,” he said. 
“ I am afraid there must be something wrong some- 
where, or his name would not be implicated in this 
thing. Of course I believe he is all right, myself.” 

“I should say so! We know Burrill, and a better 
nigger never lived.” Wheeler tilted his chair back 
and slapped his knee to give emphasis to his words. 
“ Why, I would trust Burrill Coleman a sight further 
than I would many a white man I know who passes 
for a gentleman.” 

“Yes, we know Burrill, and think a mighty heap of 
him,” Jules admitted, his dark eyes still gazing into 
the fire. “Our praises, though, I fear, won’t go for 
much with the Mississippi officials,” he added, twisting 
his mustache and biting off the ends thoughtfully. 

“ I don’t purpose relying upon our praises nor my 
confidence in him to effect Burrill Coleman’s release,” 
Wheeler declared warmly. “ Why, man, I’ve got 
proofs!” He jumped up from his chair. “Come 
here ; I’ll show you what can clear Burrill Coleman of 
all suspicion.” 

Jules followed Wheeler over to his desk, and both 
stood, while the latter pulled down his ticket ledger 
and rapidly turned the pages. 

“ There,” he said triumphantly, pausing on a page, 
and running his finger down the column of dates. 
“ There it is : Burrill Coleman, Nov. 25th, worked till 
12 o’clock. Pretty good evidence in his favor, isn’t it ? 
Mr. Beresford was murdered on November 25th, at or 
near 10 o’clock, and Burrill Coleman is arrested as 


155 


being one of his murderers. Now if any one can 
prove to me that a man can work at a gin till 12 
o’clock here, and then get to Leona, ninety miles dis- 
tant, across a river, and without steamboat or railway 
to assist him, in time to commit a murder at 10 o’clock, 
then I’ll freely confess I don’t know anything about 
human possibilities. And, more than that,” went on 
Wheeler, rapidly, “ I can swear that I talked with 
Burrill about six o’clock that same Saturday. He had 
bought a pair of shoes for his wife — ” 

“ Burrill claims that he hasn’t any wife just at 
present,” Durieux interrupted, smilingly. 

“ Well, he bought a pair of women’s shoes, the best 
pair in the house. No. 4, anyway, and he brought 
them back to exchange for a pair of 3J. I noticed it 
particularly, as I didn’t know there was a woman on 
the place with that small a foot.” 

“ Well, I am certainly glad that you have this,” said 
Durieux, tapping the book with a cigar he had taken 
out to light. “ It worried me no little to have Burrill 
taken ofi‘ the place this way. I have always liked him 
as a man and as a laborer. He has the knack of 
getting more work out of another darkey, too, than 
any man I ever saw, black or white. You know, a 
nigger just naturall}^ hates to be bossed by another 
nigger, but Burrill can take a squad of hands and 
make things hum.” Durieux laughed, and puffed at 
his cigar. “ It’s an actual fact — sometimes when I’ve 
wanted an extra amount of work done by a certain 
time, I’ve put Burrill to oversee the job, and gone on 
off, knowing he would get it done, if I couldn’t.” 

“They all like Burrill, and seem to have a high 
regard for him,” Wheeler said. 

“ Yes,” drawled Durieux, “ but do you know, I think 
there is a certain — a — well, fear, I suppose I must call 
it, mixed with their esteem ? ” 


156 


“Oh, I don’t know,” said Wheeler, who, now that 
Coleman was in trouble, was unwilling to review his 
shortcomings. “ Burrill is right rough and dictatorial 
to men of his own color — that’s just his way — but he 
is always as respectful and accommodating to white 
people as any body could desire.” 

The day for Coleman’s trial came, and, busy as he 
was, and illy as he could be spared from his place 
behind the counter, Arthur Wheeler arose at three 
o’clock, while the world was still wrapped in the icy 
darkness of a coming winter’s day, and putting his 
books in the buggy, drove over twenty-five miles of 
almost bottomless roads to testify where Burrill Cole- 
man was on November 25th. He furthermore swore 
that the negro had worked on Englehart steadily 
throughout the year, with the exception of a day or 
two off, now and then, when he was laid up with 
toothache. 

When Wheeler recrossed the river by ferry boat, and 
got into his buggy to return home in the afternoon, 
Burrill Coleman shared the seat in the buggy with 
him, and a more grateful being it had never been 
Arthur Wheeler’s pleasure to see. The darkey seemed 
as though he could not do enough to show his thanks. 

Wheeler was almost frozen after his long drive, and 
Dureiux, expecting that he would be thoroughly so, sat 
up in the office of the store to wait for him, with elab- 
orate preparations in the way of hot supper, a warm 
room, and fresh clothes, all in order ; and this, together 
with Burrill’s humble and repeated expressions of 
thanks, made him sink to sleep, when he finally did 
get to bed, with some sort of vague idea that perhaps 
all the heroes, even if but on a small scale, were not 
dead yet. 

From the time that apprehension was felt in Louis- 
iana of robbery and murder in plantation stores. 


157 


Durieux and Wheeler used the utmost precaution 
toward protecting themselves and their employer’s 
property. Durieux changed his sleeping apartment 
from the plantation residence to the store and, without 
desiring it generally known, shared Wheeler’s bed with 
him. 

The store on Englehart was a much nicer building 
than is usually seen in such out of the way places. It 
was built upon stout pillars, twelve feet from the 
ground, to insure against overflow in event the levees 
should break, and the lower portion was finished off as 
a wareroom. There was a gallery in front and at the 
back, and a long flight of steps leading to each of these 
two resting-places. The back portion of the store was 
divided into two rooms, serving as office and Wheeler’s 
bedroom, the former opening on the back gallery. 

The two young men, after discussing the danger of 
their position, had determined to guard against sur- 
prise. As time flew on, however, and nothing occurred 
to cause apprehension, they began to feel satisfied that 
their establishment was to be overlooked by gentlemen 
of color who made their living in such a precarious and 
illegitimate manner. 

It is my belief,” said Durieux one day, “ that in 
each case where there has been robbery, the store was 
closely watched, and the theft not accomplished until 
the rascals were sure that there was enough money in 
the house to warrant the danger.” 

“Yes, I have thought of that, too. I suspect our 
indemnity so far has been due to the fact that our 
income has not been just what the devils want at a 
haul. If our sales were what they were last year, 
and the year before, I guess we would have handed 
in our checks long ago. That was a wise thought of 
Mr. Barrett’s, turning the bulk of the trade into the 
Sigma store.” 

1 1 


158 


^‘Then we have our safe, too.” 

“Yes, a big safe like that seems to fill a nigger with 
awe They actually regard the mysterious way of 
opening it as a sort of witchcraft — real conjure work, 
in fact.” 

Durieux laughed. “Well, I don’t care what makes 
them hesitate — conjure work or what — ;just so long as 
they hesitate long enough for us to save our heads.” 

The night following this conversation, after the store 
had been closed, and the 3mung men were sitting by 
the stove for a last smoke before bed time, something 
happened which made them think their crisis had 
ariived. 

Durieux had brought his razor into the office, and 
sat there sharpening it with extra care for use next 
morning, and Wheeler sat idly watching each flash of 
the bright blade, as it moved back and forth over the 
strop. 

A heavy step came shuffling up to the front door, fol- 
lowed b}^ a loud rap. The two young men exchanged 
glances and sat intently listening. The knocking 
was repeated loudly, but neither of them spoke. They 
waited in silence, and heard footsteps descending the 
front stair and after a while ascending that at the rear, 
which had its head at the office door. A hand was 
laid vigorously upon the door knob, and the door 
rattled violently as a man’s voice without called : 

“ Mr. Wheeler! oh, Mr. Wheeler! Please, sir, let me 
in ; I want some med’cin.” 

Neither Durieux nor Wheeler recognized the voice, 
and again exchanging significant glances, they waited. 
The door was a solid structure, with no crack that 
admitted of any one’s looking into the office, and 
there was no other opening upon the gallery, except a 
window closed with a shutter of solid wood. 

The noise and voice ceased for a few moments, and 
began again. 


159 


“Mr. Wheeler! oh, Mr. Wheeler!’^ the man outside 
called, and then there was a groan of pain. “Oh, Mr. 
Wheeler, please, sir, let me in.” 

“Hello there!” called Wheeler. “Who is that 
making that racket?” 

“It’s me, Mr. Wheeler. Let me in; I want some 
med’cin.” 

“Oh, is that you, Pete?” The two men listened, 
and the unfamiliar voice answered: 

“ Yes sir.” 

“Go along, then,” commanded Durieux, gruffly. 
“I’m shaving Mr. Wheeler, and don’t want to be 
bothered.” 

There was silence again, as Durieux thought there 
would be at mention of the razor, but only for a time, 
and the pleading began again, preceded by another deep 
groan. 

“ Please, sir, let me in. I got the misery so bad I’m 
’most dead.” 

“ Well, hold on, then, a minute,” said Durieux. 
“Pete!” No answer. “Humph!” he muttered, 
“ he’s forgotten what his name was. Pete ! ” 

“Yes sir,” the voice groaned. 

“Go look on the edge of the horse-trough, close by 
the pump, and you’ll find that bottle of Mul-en-ol — 
the bottle of medicine I was using on the place where 
Mag cut herself in the wire fence. You know' the one I 
mean ; you saw me put it there. It’s the best thing 
on earth for the ‘ misery.’ Just take a teaspoonful in 
some water. Go on ; you won’t have any trouble 
finding it.” 

“Yes sir,” he drawled reluctantly. 

“Is the Mul-en-ol really there?” questioned Wheel- 
er, in a whisper. 

“Yes, it’s there. I forgot to bring it in when I 


160 


finished doctoring the horse. He’ll find it if he needs 
it.” 

“ Mr. Wheeler—” 

“Well?” 

“ Hit’s dark out here. Please, sir, lend me a candle?” 

“ Aw, go to the devil ! ” thundered Durieux. “ Didn’t 
I tell you I was fixing to shave Mr. Wheeler and didn’t 
want to be bothered ? If I take a double-barreled shot- 
gun to you, I reckon you’ll leave.” 

Durieux strode across the room and snatched up a 
gun, which he allowed to strike the floor as he walked 
toward the door. But there was no occasion for his 
using it ; footsteps shuffled down the stairway precip- 
itately, which sounded as though made by more than 
one pair of feet, and there was profound silence, save 
the wind whistling around the corners of the house. 


CHAPTER XVIL 


“ Christmas comes but once a year, 

And ev’y nigger wants his sheer.” 

And he generally gets it, too. Christmas is the great- 
est event of the whole twelve months; transcending 
all other days as a king transcends his subjects. The 
Fourth of July is all very well for a grand picnic, ice 
cream, and a big dinner, but it is not Christmas and 
there is only one period in the whole calendar which is. 

For days preceding the twenty-fifth, the average 
darkey is in a state of radiant good humor and antici- 
pation ; planning how he is going to enjoy himself and 
what he is going to get for Santa Claus. He spends 
his cash as lavishly as a Croesus, upon clothing, presents 
for his lady love, whiskey and craps, with a sublime 
disregard for the days that come after. He wakes up 
the morning before the great day, as happy as a bride- 
groom and as wealthy as a nabob if he has as much as 
twenty dollars to spend for things he can do without. 

His idea of the best possible way to fill the thirty-six 
hours which, in his mind, comprise Christmas, is to get 
so gloriously drunk in the first place that he can shoot 
off* his pistol and yell at the top of his voice without 
caring a snap who sees him or who hears him, and he 
takes dancing, eating, and fire-works incidentally. 
Everybody has a bowl of eggnog on tap from six o’clock 
until it gives out, and he, and she too, begins festivities 
by visiting his most intimate friend to sample his egg- 
nog and catch him “ Christmas-gif and pretty soon 
he is launched upon his happiness. 

The negro is not the only one, either, who feels to- 
161 


162 


ward Christmas a passionate affection that no other an- 
niversary can command. The “touch of nature that 
makes the whole world kin” has set its seal too un- 
grudgingly for the bond of unity to be ignored; and 
the illusive day, so crowded with reminiscenes of joy, 
sorrow, hope and regret, so overflowing with good will 
and rejoicing that is often but a screen for unshed tears, 
comes, and all of us turn aside from our marked out 
pathway to clasp it; and when it has slipped through 
our fingers, like another bead in the rosary of memory, 
we take np our burdens once more and pursue our ap- 
pointed course. 

The day before Christmas, the Barrett household was 
in the season’s usual flutter of industry and expecta- 
tion. Mrs. Barrett, Nellie, and Lillie were darting here 
and there, busy with preparation, and the children 
were in a state of excitement that bordered on frenzy. 
They 1 ad not walked normally for a week, but bounded 
like toys, inflated with that ephemeral gas called hope. 
They skipped, hopped or ran, whichever, for the time 
being, aflorded the best safety valve for overjoyed 
spirits’ effervescence. They sang or hummed in that 
nerve twitching manner peculiar to childhood, until 
Nellie clapped her hand over her tortured ears, willing 
to compromise upon any price lor peace and quiet. 

Virgil and Stella held many secret conferences as to 
the probable gifts Irom old Santa Claus, and the various 
closely wrapped packages that from time to time were 
smuggled into the house, supposedly undetected by 
four keen bright eyes, were an unceasing source of 
speculation. Once or twice they succeeded in touching 
some of the mysterious bundles and boldly asked 
questions about them, but the answ’er was invariably 
a sharp command to “let that alone, it’s lay overs to 
catch meddlers,” and thwarted, they went at something 
else,- disgusted. 


163 


'‘Oh shucks! ” muttered Stella upon one of these oc- 
casions, as she shook herself indignantly and marched 
out of the room. The hot tears rushed into her eyes 
and her little lips quivered with wrath. It seemed 
terrible to have to live with people who treated hen 
feelings with no more consideration than if she was a 
baby, and it seemed to her, with none of the petting 
and adulation that w'as a baby’s due, and that she was, 
without knowing it, steadily outgrowing. A big tear 
gathered and dropped upon the hem of her soiled little 
apron, and she resolved that she would run away; 
would go out to Englehart to live with “Mr. Duwo.” 
He had asked her to come and he at least loved her, 
she was sure, for he never, never refused to answer her 
questions. 

She picked up her small, dirty sunbonnet from under 
a chair in the hall, and determined that she would go 
at once. She reached the back door and there she 
found her brother blockading the way. He was upon 
his knees driving tacks into the edge of the rug, which 
he had surreptitiously sneaked out of the store room, 
together with the hammer, while his mother and sister 
were in the pantry. The rug had curled along the 
edges and tripped him the day before, and he resolved 
that it shouldn’t do it again. Stella marched up to him 
and commanded : 

“ Let me by, Birgil.” The lump in her throat made 
her voice break, and the little boy looked up in sur- 
prise. 

“ Why sister, what’s the matter?” he asked tenderly. 
“ Who made you mad ? ” 

The little fellow’s sympathy, added to the sight of 
another big tear that fell just then, was more than 
Stella could stand, and she broke down completely. 

“Oh hrozzer,” she sobbed, “ ey’y body is so mean! 
Mower won’t tell me nussin and sitter tweats me just 


164 


like I was a dog! Mower gets sings and gets sings, 
and she won’t tell me what’s in em, and ev’y time I 
asts her she just says ‘ Lay-overs-to-tatch-meddlers.’ Do 
you weckon its lay-overs in all of end?” 

Virgil scratched his nose with the head of a tack, 
thoughtfully. 

“ What do you reckon lay-overs looks like, sister? ” 

“ I don’t know,” said the little girl with spirit. “ If 
they’d just show me tome one time, I wouldn’t bozzer 
to see ’em any more.” 

Virgil turned his blonde head and stared through 
the open doorway into the yard. “ I wonder if they 
are to eat,” he mused. 

The words had scarcely left his lips when he bounded 
to his feet. “ Whoopee, sister, Allen’s getting ready to 
kill the turkey I Let’s go see.” 

He dashed off toward the wood pile. Stella tossed 
her bonnet aside and flew after him, and together the 
two little savages, as blood thirsty as our aborigines, 
watched with intense interest the death throes of the 
poor bird destined for tomorrow’s feast. If either of 
them at another time had found a baby turkey with a 
broken leg or a pecked head, it would have been nursed 
with the tenderest solicitude until it died and then 
found tearful burial in a corner of the garden, but the 
connection between a fowl dying from sickness or from 
some one’s design had never yet occurred to them. 

The children were in every body’s way ; wanting to 
beat eggs or run errands, and begging to scrape every 
icing dish or cake bowl as soon as it was emptied; 
compelling the greatest vigilance on the part of Mrs. 
Barrett and Nellie to keep the young tasters from foun- 
dering themselves before the great event for which ail 
this cooking was intended, arrived. In their zeal to 
help, combined with sudden exuberance of feeling, 
several accidents happened. 


165 


Both children were expert dancers and possessed be- 
sides the ball-room acquirements learned from Nellie, 
many of the fancy steps that were among Lillie’s ac- 
complishments. These last they were often called 
upon to practice for the benefit of Nellie’s guests, who 
delighted in having her play the queer timed nigger 
tunes and watching the children go through the quaint 
movements. They performed the evolutions, like the 
negroes, quite as skillfully to “patting” as to music, 
for it was to that method of keeping time that Lillie 
had taught them. 

Nellie turned a beautiful white cake, as light as a 
feather, from the pan, and commented upon its merits 
so glowingly, amid general applause, that Virgil began 
to pat in expression of his admiration, and Stella, com- 
pelled to give vent to her feelings, hearing the familiar 
rythm, involuntarily commenced to “buzzard lope” 
with such animation that the pantry table shook, and 
crash ! upon the floor went Mrs. Barrett’s handsome 
crystal bowl — the one that was her mother’s before 
hers — left by Lillie’s carelessness too near the edge, in 
hopeless ruins. 

No wonder that Mrs. Barrett, who was tired and ner- 
vous from her work and the children’s noise, gave them 
each a rousing slap and sent them heart broken out of 
room. Their affliction was lived down finally, like 
many an older person’s, but they refrained from going 
back to the culinary regions for almost two hours. 

Long before lamp-light Stella and Virgil began beg- 
ging to be allowed to hang up their stockings and go 
to bed, thinking, doubtless, to decoy old Santa Claus 
and the great day into coming all the earlier. Nellie, 
trying to keep their restless hands and minds employed, 
sent them to the borders of the flower beds to pick vio- 
lets for decorating the table next day; and she, eager 
to have the benefit of every ray of departing light, took 


166 


her needle work and sat upon the front steps to finish 
it. 

The earth and the sky were thoroughly water-soaked, 
and although neither were actually wet at the time, 
they threatened to unite with a veil of Christmas rain 
at any hour. The elements were like a nervous, melan- 
choly woman, quiet and gloomy; and keeping every 
one in anxious dread lest some untoward event might 
press too heavily upon the strained curb and precipi- 
tate the dreaded outburst. The weather had for days 
been warm and sullen, and there had been no fires in 
the house except in the kitchen or perhaps in Mrs. Bar- 
rett’s room early in the mornings, to dry otf the chill 
of the atmosphere. Out on the lawn, here and there, 
a pert, adventurous tuft of orchard grass or clover stood 
up like a giant emerald in its setting of faded brown. 
Flower seeds, too, that had dropped upon the beds in 
summer and lain sleeping throughout the autumn 
frosts, were starting up cheerily, only to perish with 
the first icy touch of the coming infant year. 

All of the cooking was finished that could be done 
before hand, except a few pies which Lillie was then 
tending, and Nellie came to the front steps to put the 
final stitches in a handkerchief case intended for Dur- 
ieux on the morrow\ Her other gifts had all been 
completed and laid aside days before, — the exquisite 
doilies for her mother, the new* smoking jacket for her 
father, and the slipper case for Wheeler; besides others 
for her girl arid servant I'riends. This one would have 
been done too, but it required a little more ribbon and 
another yard of chiffon to complete the beauty of its 
handsomely painted satin; these had to be ordered, 
and with characteristic perversity of such things, de- 
layed their coming until the afternoon’s mail. 

There was another' gift unfinished and laid away 
with a tear-drop soaked into its embroidered velvet sur- 


167 


face. This one was meant for a photograph envelope, 
and Dr. Allison was the one for whom it vas designe d, 
but it was tolded away and many a bright, sweet hope 
was put away, too, as the box lid shut it into darkness. 

Nellie was at work upon it and had it half done, 
when, her father coming into the room where she sat, 
she held it up for his admiration, asking gaily: 

“How do you like it, father?” 

“Very much,” he replied, always taking an interest 
in her handiwork. “ Very much, indeed. I believe it 
is quite the handsomest piece you’ve ever made. Who 
is it for? ” 

Nellie was delighted with his praise. It was her 
wish to make this the most beautiful of them all, and 
she was elated with her success. 

“ This is for Dr. Allison,” she said vivaciously. She 
took up her needle again and was threading it when 
she heard her father say in that courteous, not to be 
disobeyed voice she knew so well: 

“ Virgil, you and the baby go out of doors to play.” 

He was silent until the two children gathered up 
their playthings and went out of the room, leaving the 
door open behind them as children usually do. Mr. 
Barrett laid down the paper he had pretended to read 
that the children might not suspect him of having an 
unusual reason for sending them from the room, and 
went and closed the door. Returning, he stood with 
his back to the fire and looked steadily at the girl’s 
bowed head. 

“Nellie,” he began, “for some time I have been ap- 
prehensive that a friendship exists between yourself 
and Dr. Allison which distresses me to consider. I feel 
a great delicacy, my dear, in inquiring into your actions 
or affections, but this is a matter I cannot leave to the 
adjustment of chance. I must therefore put aside my 
reluctance to speaking to you on the subject and ask 


168 


you the direct question : Do you feel any particular 
interest in Dr. Allison, — in other words, is his friend- 
ship more to you than that of the other young men of 
your acquaintance ? ” 

Nellie folded her cold hands tightly in her lap to 
control their trembling. Had she suddenly been con- 
fronted by the entire bench of supreme judges she 
could not have been more daunted, more intimidated. 
That her father, the one she revered and loved almost 
more than any one else on earth, should question her, 
seemed more than she could bear. He whom she had 
always looked to as the arbiter of her being — who had 
criticized her so sparingly, and loved her so unbound- 
edly, — that he should speak to her with that cold tone 
in his voice made her faint with dread. She had never 
disobeyed her father willfully in her life — his com- 
mendation was too precious to risk the losing. What 
was she to say now ? What was she to do? Her brain 
seemed to being going around in a whirl that blotted 
out all ability to act. 

Mr. Barrett stood waiting for her to speak, and Nellie 
knew how he looked without raising her eyes. He was 
standing with his proudly poised head bent slightly 
forward in order to catch her meaning; his shoulders 
well back, and his hands clasped behind him; his 
earnest eyes, with that unwavering firmness in their 
glance, reflecting the self-control and will that harbored 
behind them, were bent upon her. 

“Nellie,—” 

“Yes, father, I heard — ” 

“Then, my dear, you need not speak. My most 
poignant fears are realized.” There was a painful 
silence, and then he resumed. “ My child, that pre- 
caution which I believe to be your only salvation from 
a future life of sorrow must be enforced. You must 
promise me today that henceforth you will have no 
further communication with this man.” 


169 


“Father, stop! How can I promise that?” 

“Nellie!” There was a pathos in the exclamation 
that made the unhappy girl feel like a culprit. “ Has 
it gone as far as this ! ” 

“ Oh, father, how can I make you understand,” she 
cried in her wretched perplexity. “ He loves me so 
much, so truly, and I — ” she broke off and covered her 
flushed face with her hands. 

“ My dear child, what can you know of love ? How 
can you judge of what is in a man’s inmost thoughts 
by what he whispers into a pretty, willing ear? Per- 
haps you showed him your preference, and he, eager 
for new sensations, worded what he suspected lay in 
your own heart,” 

“ Oh, father! ” Nellie lifted her head and looked at 
the author of this stinging suggestion with a dignity 
that was true child to a father’s pride, 

“ I beg your pardon, my child ; I did not mean to 
wound you. Still, I must reiterate: In this matter 
you can not possibly be a judge. Think, my daughter; 
think of your youth — what is a girl of eighteen but a 
child?” 

For an instant Nellie lifted her head and flashed a 
sparkling glance at Mr. Barrett. 

“ Mother—” 

“Yes, yes, I know. Your mother was only seven- 
teen, you would say. But our betrothal took place 
under very difierent auspices. I was ne'arly thirty, and 
prepared to provide for a wife, and her parents were 
anxious for the match, whereas this Allison — ” 

“We realize that we must wait. He has spoken of 
his poverty and his ambitions. I am willing to wait — ” 

“ Waiting will avail nothing,” Mr. Barrett said, 
trenchantly. “ I may as well tell you now as to dis- 
guize the truth. I can never — I shall never, as long as 
I live, consent to your marrying Edward Allison ! ” 


170 


Mr. Barrett’s voice was rising in anger. “ His ambi- 
tions,” he exclaimed, filling with wrath at the thought. 
“ His ambitions, indeed ! What could gratify his am- 
bition more than to know himself married to you — to 
my daughter, and establishing himself upon my^ influ- 
ence and position ? ” 

“ Don’t be hasty, father,” she pleaded. “ You scarcely 
know him.” 

“ Not know him — Nellie, can you compare your facil- 
ities for knowing him with mine? You who see him 
only in a parlor, when he has assumed his manner to- 
gether with his dress clothes? Do I not know that 
his constant associates are Vincent Minor and Sidney 
Carroll?’; 

“ That is due to his unavoidable circumstances. He 
has told me how deeply he regrets it.” Nellie had 
scarcely spoken the words before she realized her mis- 
take. Her father’s self-control slipped from his grasp. 

“ Nellie,” he said sternlv, I will discuss this matter 
with you no further. You must promise me, now, 
that henceforth you will have no communication with 
Dr. Allison whatever. Will you promise?” 

The girl arose slowly to her feet, the forgotten em- 
broidery falling unheeded upon the carpet. As she 
drew herself up to her full height, she said firmly, sadly: 

“ No, father, I can not promise now a contradiction 
of a promise already given.” 

“ To what effect, may I ask ? ” 

“ To be true to him and wait for him until he is in a 
position to ask you for me.” 

Mr. Barrett was staggered by the girl’s clear answer 
and the decisive meaning in her glowdng eyes. He 
walked to the window and gazed out upon the sun-lit 
leafless trees. This, then, was the result of eighteen 
years of example and precept in the code of honor. 
He realized all he had lost by thus dallying with chance 


171 


and waiting for circumstances to shape themselves. 
He went back to the fire-place, where the girl still stood 
with bowed head, and endeavored to make a last effort 
to gain his wish. 

“ You must promise me. at least, that you will never 
marry him without my consent! ” 

The girl looked up imploringly. 

“Father, you would make me promise that?” 

“And why not?” he demanded. 

“Father, how can I? Have you not just said that 
you would never give your consent — never? Would 
you take advantage of me?” 

“No, child, no. I would take undue advantage of 
no one.” He paused, and stood staring at the rug. 
“ Will you promise me, then, that you will not take 
advantage of me — that you will not marry him with- 
out uiy knowledge?” 

“Yes, sir, I will promise you that.” 

“Thank. you. You will now please write to Dr. 
Allison and tell him of this interview. I shall write, 
too, to tell him of my decision. I shall ask him, if he 
values my respect for him as a gentleman, not to seek 
an interview with you upon any occasion without my 
permission.” 

Nellie, too full of dumb misery to make reply, went 
to her room, and Mr. Barrett sat at his wife’s desk and 
wrote his letter. 

An hour later, when Nellie returned, she handed 
what she had written to her father, with the unsealed 
flap of the envelope uppermost. Mr. Barrett took it, 
turned it over and read the address, written in the 
strong, dashing angles of the girl of the-day’s penman- 
ship; then sealed it firmly and put into his pocket. 

Nellie was still near him, standing with bowed head, 
her tightly clasped hands dropped before her. He 
reached out his arms and enfolded her, drawing her to 


172 


his heart with tenderest fondness. Nellie threw her 
arms about his neck, and clinging to him as though to 
shield herself from her suffering, burst into a storm of 
tears that shook her slender young form with hard, 
passionate sobs. 

It was not soon that Mr. Barrett succeed in quieting 
her. He sat down again, and took his petted darling 
upon his knees as he had done years before, when her 
beautiful doll slipped from her arms and crashed upon 
the cruel pavement. More than once Mr. Barrett’s 
handkerchief was pressed to his own aching eyes, and 
then to hers; but he was not a man to shrink from 
pain when the saving of a vital part was the alterna- 
tive. 

This had happened weeks before Christmas, and the 
first sharp edges of her pain had been dulled by the 
busy days that intervened. The embroidered velvet 
had been put away where the sight of it would not be 
a reminder of that merciless hour with her father ; and 
unselfishness made her hide her aching heart from 
those who loved her best. 

Mrs. Barrett was visiting a sick neighbor when the 
interview took place between her husband and Nellie, 
and when upon her return Mr. Barrett told her of all 
that had transpired, she sighed, and with closed lips 
trusted to the judgment of him whose past proved that 
in all serious matters it was best to rely upon his 
guidance. The mother suffered in the grief of her 
child, but she dared not interfere where interference 
might cause unutterable harm. She liked Dr. Allison 
sincerely, and feared sadly that Mr. Barrett was un- 
reasonable in his unfaith in the young man’s charac- 
ter ; but she felt that she was pow^erless to prove his 
virtues or his vices. Then, too, Mrs. Barrett was one 
of those particularly placid women, in whom rebellion 
toward circumstances or fate was an alien part. 


173 


As days went by, Nellie’s cheeks grew paler and her 
merry wit ceased to sparkle in fireside chat. She was 
grave and thoughtful, and nothing seemed to move 
her to her old vivacity. Mrs. Barrett was alarmed, 
and suggested that she should visit her aunt in New 
Orleans, where perhaps intercourse with her cousins 
and their large circle of acquaintances might restore 
her to her former peaceful life. When the visit was 
proposed to Nellie, she quietly acquiesced. It matter- 
ed little to her now where she was or who were her 
companions. The sun of her day seemed set, and twi- 
light was all that was left. 

As Nellie sat on the front steps in the warm, moist 
air, skillfully twisting her ribbon into graceful loops 
and knots, her thoughts were not of the man for whom 
it all was intended, but of him who occupied the 
purest, sweetest shrine a man had ever been apotheo- 
cised to fill — the first altar of her girlish heart. 

Her chain of dreary thought was by and by broken 
by a noise in the rear of the house. She became con- 
scious that Stella and Virgil were cooing and coaxing 
to something they were inviting into the house, and 
she wondered what new discovery they had made. 
She devoutly hoped it was not a new deer, or another 
coon. 

Nellie’s many admirers had a distressing way of 
sending pets to the children, in the mistaken hope of 
ingratiating themselves into the better esteem of the 
older members of the family; and if all of the animals 
that had been sent at various times could have been 
gathered together, a zoological garden on a pretty fair 
scale would have been the result. There had been 
deer, rabbits, dogs, cats, raccoons, an infant alligah r, 
a turtle, a crane, mocking birds, canaries, pigeons, a 
pelican, a young otter, a peacock, besides several squir 
rels; and Nellie lived in daily dread that the monkey 
1 2 


174 


and parrot would come next, for Stella had revealed 
the fact that she wanted the latter, and Virgil had 
openly declared that he’d “just give anything for a 
monkey.” 

Whenever a new animal was received the children 
went into ecstacies over it, and everybody who came 
to the house was consulted as to the best way to rear 
it, and the most appropriate name to give it. 

The law of the survival of the fittest fortunately 
holds good with pets, as with everything else, and the 
stock had dwindled down to a setter dog, a maltese 
cat, the peafowls, and a white pigeon. So it was with 
relief that Nellie found, when she went to the door, 
that the commotion upon the occasion was caused by 
the arrival of the children’s greatest pet of all — Lillie’s 
little boy, Robert. 

Robert lived with his grandmother, as the children 
of young negro women who love balls and picnics gen- 
erally do, but he had come across the fields to visit his 
mother, and Stella and Virgil were bringing him into 
the house to initiate him in the delights of hanging up 
his stocking. This being only the second Christmas 
that had come since that young man’s advent, he was 
totally in the dark as to the required proceedings. The 
little darkey was toiling up the back steps on all fours, 
clutching his stocking in one fat fist and trying to 
hold his skirts out of the way with the other. Lillie 
was following close behind, laughing and talking to the 
children and carrying her own stocking, bought for 
the occasion, in her hand. When Robert reached the 
last step, Stella stooped to help him, retained his 
chubby hand, while Virgil took the other; and then 
with explanations of the great mystery that was soon 
to be ♦^‘nacted, they walked along, keeping the colored 
child between them. This was not Robert’s first ex- 
cursion into “ the white folk’s house,” for Stella and 


175 


Virgil smuggled him in whenever they found a chance, 
and there they played with him and fed him on cake 
and candy to the detriment of anything frailer than 
goat’s or an ordinary child’s digestive apparatus. 

The quartette, followed by Nellie, went into Mrs. 
Barrett’s room and that lady assisted in hanging the 
two new stockings over the empty fire-place, side by 
side with the children’s, which had been hanging there 
some time. 

When this was carefully done and the children con- 
sented to let Robert go, Lillie took her son by the hand 
to lead him off. He was willing to accompany her, 
but he did not like the idea of leaving any of his wear- 
ing apparel behind. He went to the fire-place and 
reached up after his stocking, and when Lillie told him 
again that he must leave it, he walked out reluctantly, 
casting glances over his shoulder and mumbling about 
“ tocin in Mi Ba’s oom.” 


CHAPTER XVIII. 


Although Dr. Allison told Nellie to the contrary, 
he did at times, bravely as he fought against it, find 
Lauren’s Station a dreary hole of probation. A hole it 
was in truth, situated in the midst of the great swamps, 
where the railway tracks that crossed them were built 
for miles and miles upon an embankment as tall as 
that which held the Mississippi’s grizzly waters in 
check. There was a beautiful bayou, spanned by the 
railway bridge, running through Lauren’s plantation, 
and it was in the angle formed by this bayou and the 
railroad that the depot, plantation store, and gin house 
stood. These buildings were all set upon pillars that 
raised their floors to a level with the top of the em- 
bankment, and they reminded one of a bevy of school- 
boys out for play on stilts. A stranger might well 
wonder why houses were built here at all, if they must 
be constructed with reference to an overflow as the 
essential feature ; and no better answer could be given 
him than to point out the fields at hand, where two 
men, well mounted, might ride along between separate 
cotton rows, so tall that they would be concealed from 
each other’s view from one end of the field to the other 
and yet carry on a conversation all the while. Or 
where a man might walk between the rows of corn and 
see nothing but the green swaying forest about him 
and a bit of blue sky over head. 

The man who owns and cultivates such land can 
quickly become a millionaire; and yet there are few 
millionaires in north Louisiana, for that great, silent, 
anti-wealth Hercules breaks his fetters once in a while 
176 


177 


and sweeps the planter off his feet, leaving him to learn 
to stand where once he ran. 

There is an allurement, too, that none can resist. 
No white man can content himself with his circum- 
stances unless he has a right to claim some of this 
wonderful dark soil as his own — the fascination to have 
and to hold it against all threatening conditions is a 
power the native-born can not thwart; so upon this 
smiling goddess he stakes his all. From the first dollar 
put upon the throw, he becomes more and more in- 
volved until the game closes, and he finds himself 
vastly rich or hopelessly “ broke.” Planting is the 
most hazardous game of chance, and the planter the 
most enslaved gambler of them all. He can not be 
convinced that luck will always be his foe, and he woos 
the fickle coquette year after year, until his grey hairs 
are laid upon his last pillow and the last acre of his 
beloved soil gives him the rest his weary spirit craves. 

These fertile bottom lands, of which Lauren’s planta- 
tion is a small part, lying from ten to seventy miles 
westward of the river, is like an interminable trough 
catching the waters from any break in the levee be- 
tween the Arkansas boundaries to the white sands of 
the gulf; and truly was it once said that this southern 
swamp was worthy of a granite wall from Minnesota 
to the southern sea. 

Lauren’s Station, from a social point of view, was 
absolutely nothing. The only white people who lived 
there were the three young men, Allison, Carroll, and 
Minor ; and the nearest neighbor was three miles dis- 
tant. The passenger trains and the two freights that 
passed the station, going east and west, daily, always 
wafted a breath of the outer world through the prim- 
eval solitude of the place and made it seem a. little less 
the wilderness that it was. 

In saying that Lauren’s was a place of probation, 


178 


Dr. Allison accepted one of the unwritten laws of pre- 
judice. He knew that however well a man might 
know his profession, the world demands a certain 
length of practice before it will hold out a lifting hand 
to help him up the thorny steeps to success. Besides 
this, he was young; and, what annoyed him sorely, 
the world would not credit him with the twenty-seven 
years his life entitled him to. He came of a fair, lightly 
bearded race, and despite his coaxing he had only a 
handsome blonde mustache to conceal the youthful 
smoothness of his face. He was deeply interested in hiss 
profession, loving it as his father had before him, and 
he had faith in the old saying, “All things come to him 
who waits.” Whenever Allison quoted this favorite saw 
of his, he always mentally supplemented “properly.” 
So he accepted the obscure practice, with its fairly good 
income, believing that time and vigilance would bring 
in its train age and experience, and with these assist- 
ants he knew that fortune and fame would be subject 
to his bidding. A better hearted man never lived than 
he. He was generous and unselfish to a degree that 
made him conspicuous, and he shrank from wounding 
another’s feelings as he would from wounding his 
person — far more, for when fulfilling his duties as sur- 
geon he looked upon his patient as so much valuable 
material to be restored to its normal condition regard- 
less of costs. 

And yet this man, with all his excellent qualities, 
possessed a temper that was hot and passionate. Fric- 
tion with his schoolmates throughout his boyhood had 
taught him to hold this fiery steed that can so easily 
bear one on to destruction, and he had learned to hold 
it with a steel-like grip that seldom failed in its duty. 

There must have been other traits too, to be watched 
and guarded, hereditary, both, or why did a sweet girl 
friend, who had known him all her life, put her best 


179 


work into a picture she painted and sent to him? In 
one corner it was named “The Three Vices,” and the 
pretty frame revealed a canvas upon which was shown 
the corner of a table where stood a half filled wine- 
glass, a pack of cards with dice lying near, and a cigar 
with its grey end over the marble edge of the table 
sending a slender curl of smoke upward, that floated 
across the cards and goblet and made them seem in a 
misty distance. 

Allison laughed when he unpacked the gift and hung 
it opposite his bed in the single small room he called 
his own, and then he wrote a long cheery letter to his 
little friend telling her that her implied fears would 
never be realized. Thanking her for her present and 
its gentle warning, which he assured her was unneces- 
sary though received in the spirit it was meant, he 
went on to say that no one more fully appreciated than 
he the affliction that two of these vices had wreaked 
upon poor frail humanity. 

The men who shared Dr, Allison’s isolation were Vin- 
cent Minor, the railroad agent, and Sidney Carroll, 
manager of the plantation. Both of these men clerked 
in the store too, for there was not enough employment 
in the depot, telegraph office, and post office to keep 
one man busy. 

Carroll was a native born swamper. His ancestors 
had been the elite of the parish for close upon a hun- 
dred years, and his relatives still were esteemed among 
the most cultured and refined of her citizens; but 
somehow the mantle of aristocracy was a misfit on 
Carroll’s shoulders and had a way of slipping off at 
times, and oftentimes at that, disclosing as wild and 
reckless a scapegrace as ever blotted a fair record. 
When he chose, Carroll could behave himself with the 
bearing of a young prince, and could converse with a 
brilliant wit that upheld his fine old name. Nature 


180 


in giving him his riotous predilections had shrewdly 
enveloped them in a pleasing covering, and Carroll’s 
handsome face with its fair coloring and strong mascu- 
line beauty, together with his finely rounded figure, 
was something to be looked upon the second time, and 
remembered, too. 

Like all of the oldest and one time wealthiest fami- 
lies of the state, the greater part of the Carroll property 
had passed into the hands of aliens, and the daughters 
and sons were no longer commanding retinues of well 
trained servants, but were occupied in earning their 
daily bread. The handsome family silver and jewels 
in some instances remained, but in most cases this too 
was lost. It came by aid of the lands, and when the 
lands were in danger of departing, it returned the way 
it had come, to save the soil from gliding away in ex- 
change for necessities. 

Minor was Carroll’s equal in all respects, and differed 
from him only in outward appearance and habits of 
industry. Carroll was the oldest of the three. He was 
muscular and active, with a carriage and dignity that 
pedigree alone can make unconscious. 

He was somewhat boastful of his physical strength 
and endurance; and of the latter advantage no one 
could doubt who ever watched the quantity of liquids 
he could absorb and stand up under. Yet the fact that 
he held such a place as manager of Lauren’s proclaimed 
him expert in business, too. He was never a bully, 
but he was an incessant tease; and this peculiarity en- 
abled him to carry his point where the force of his 
powerful fist would have failed. When Carroll took 
it into his head to make a friend do a certain thing 
or go to a certain place, it resulted in his doing what 
he wished him to, or fighting; and Carroll’s child- 
like good humor and love of fun was such that it was 
hard to make him fight until he had first been con- 


181 

quered by the cup which possesses all the evils that the 
teacup does not, and then those who knew him best 
took care to let him alone. He would bet upon any- 
thing, from what a preacher’s text would be to the 
speed of his own carefully-trained horse, and on again 
to nigger shooting craps; and generally, whether he 
lost or won, it was much the same to him, provided he 
had the pleasure of putting his own valuation upon 
his opinions. 

Sidney Carroll and Vincent Minor could scarcely 
remember the time when they were not chums, and it 
may have been due to their unlimited opportunities of 
educating each other in their respective peculiarities, 
that they finally became so thoroughly congenial in 
all particulars. 


CHAPTER XIX. 


Christmas day passed at Lauren’s much as it usually 
did, with the habitual percentage of occupation for 
the doctor, arising from differences of opinion in the 
ball-room or over a crap game, and punctuated by 
knife blade or pistol shot; but, all things considered, 
the day passed off very quietly, and now the colored 
social world was in a high state of anticipation over 
the approaching wedding of the daughter of Lauren’s 
society leader. Aunt Parthenia White. 

The rain, which had for so long been threatening, 
came down at dusk on Christmas day in torrents of icy 
drops, and had fallen pitilessly all the day after, with 
hardly an hour’s cessation, to clear ofl sulkily at noon 
on the 27th, the day appointed for the nuptials. 

The evening for the great event came, and the bride 
stood before her mirror a vision of radiant ebony and 
snowy raiment. She was attired in a beautiful white 
satin dress, that had been conspicuous at one or two 
parish balls, where it enhanced the charms of one of 
Asola’s prettiest girls; but she, not wanting to appear 
too often in the same costume, had transferred the 
handsome affair to Aunt Parthenia upon terms satis- 
factory to them both. 

Nothing necessary to the completion of her attire had 
been omitted, from the cluster of white blossoms that 
held the snowy illusion in place, to the white kid 
gloves upon her hands; and the girl stoud beholding 
her reflection in the looking-glass, as happy a mortal 
as this earth ever held. 

She had the delight of knowing that no other colored 
bride in the parish had ever been more beautifully or 
182 


183 


more extravagantly arrayed; nor was any capable of 
creating the sensation that she was now the center of. 
Her dress waist fitted her finely-turned figure to per- 
fection ; there was not a wrinkle visible an} where, and 
she stood its vice-like clasp with true feminine hero- 
ism. She never thought of flinching when her mother 
drew up the all-important strings in the back, and the 
bridesmaid closed the waist in front with the aid of a 
shoe-buttoner ; and after the fastening was once accom- 
plished she gave no thought of the pressure about her 
plump form, except to reflect upon its becomingness. 
Her finery was as resplendent upon this dusky de- 
scendant of a probable African prince, as a Worth 
costume would be upon the daughter of a multi- 
millionaire; for after all it is comparison that is the 
source of opinion, and gives it all its weight. 

Miss White was not what her name would picture 
to the imagination, by any means; and there, again, 
did contrast strike like a sledgehammer. Her round, 
joyous face, with its big black eyes, and heavy grayish 
lips curving outward in a broad grin, showed beneath 
her filmy veil, to the admiration of her host of women 
friends — as pretty as a face needs to be in its shadowy 
perfection. She knew that she was regarded the luck- 
iest girl the sun ever shone upon, for she was stepping 
from a realm of great belledom into the empire of 
envied wifehood. Howard Gully was the catch of the 
plantation. He was handsome and debonair, and, 
what the negro most admires, delightfully light-com- 
plexion ed — the life of any social gathering, the con- 
fidential servant at the store, as steady as a judge, and 
drawing a salary that would make his wife the most 
important “ lady ” on the plantation. 

No wonder Melissa White was happy! Not only 
had she captured Howard Gully as her own especial 
prize, but she had received three handsome presents 


184 


from the gentlemen at Lauren’s that any bride“might 
have valued. , 

Dr. Allison had presented her with a willow rocking- 
chair of the best quality, Mr. Munroe had given her 
an elegant lamp, and Mr. Carroll had given her a fine 
bureau, the like of which few inhabitants of Lauren’s 
had ever beheld, with its tall beveled mirror and 
velvet-lined drawers. 

Melissa had decided to have but one “ waiter,” and 
this honored person was Ella Green. Ella and she 
had been good friends as children, and when they 
went off* to boarding school together, their friendship 
had been securely cemented by the bond of depend- 
ence entailed by their loneliness amid so many strangers 
in a large town. 

Ella stood beside her, now, helping her on with her 
gloves, arrayed in a stylish dress of pink silk, that 
made her really pretty face, with its delicate features 
and dreamy, fawn-like eyes, seem all the more refined, 
and caused the too robust bride to seem at a disad- 
vantage by comparison. 

When Aunt Parthenia went to Mr. Carroll to get 
him to send off for those things for the bride that 
could not be procured in Sigma or Asola, the question 
of gloves had arisen ; and when Aunt Parthenia was 
told what a pair of white kids would cost, she looked 
serious, and came to the point with her characteristic 
promptness and her strident voice, that discounted 
Trilby’s in volume: 

“ Lissy jes got to do ’thout ’em den. I ’low I done 
laid out money enough on dat gal already to ’vide her 
wid meat and bread a whole year.” 

Melissa was standing near and Dr. Allison saw the 
look of disappointment that clouded her countenance. 

“ Why, no need of buying gloves. Aunt Parthenia,” 
he said decisively, “ I believe I have the very things 
Lissy needs.” 


185 


He went to his room in the back of the store and 
returned presently with the gloves he had worn the 
night of the ever to be remembered tournament ball. 
Melissa was delighted, and Aunt Parthenia went on, 
thoughtfully : 

“ Den, Lissy got to have slippers.” 

“ No need of buying slippers either,” said Minor. 
“ Pve got the very things.” So he in turn went to his 
room in the depot, and came back bringing the patent 
leather dancing pumps he had worn on the same memo- 
rable occasion. These were a little large, but upon the 
whole proved satisfactory ; for Minor had a small foot 
and the bride a rather large one even for her race. 

When the bride and brides-maid were ready, Aunt 
Parthenia put the finishing touches to her own toilette. 
She wore a becoming suit of black silk, for she con- 
sidered nothing so appropriate for elderly persons, nor 
so altogether ladylike for all occasions. Her dress was 
not quite the latest style in cut, for she had had it four 
or five years, but it was of exquisite quality and was 
trimmed with expensive jet that flashed in the lamp 
light almost equal to diamonds. Her costume was 
brightened by a collar of white lace and a couple of 
yards of wide pink satin ribbon at her chin, tied in 
long ends and short loops. 

In' describing the wedding next day to her grand- 
rnother, Ella Green dwelt particularly upon the elegance 
of Aunt Parthenia’s personal appearance. 

Parthenia was an immense woman, standing five feet, 
eight inches barefooted, and had not an angle nor a 
bone visible about her well cushioned fr^me, yet she 
was not at all corpulent; she was simply massive — like 
her ideas of wedding suppers. She had lived in every 
neighborhood in the parish and had warm friends 
among both races in them all. She had served in many 
of the best white families, and it was her boast that 


186 


she “had never worked for no po’-white-trash in her 
life.” She had cooked several wedding feasts in her 
time and had assisted at balls and parties without num- 
ber, and she felt that she, if anybody, ought to know 
how such things should be conducted. 

She had been cooking for the young men at Laurens 
for two years, and having nursed Sidney Carroll when 
he was a baby and cooked for Mrs. Minor when Vin- 
cent was in knee pants, she felt that she had a claim 
upon these two individuals that no one could dispute. 
Sidney was still “my baby” to her and Vincent was 
“ son ” as often as Mr. Minor. 

Aunt Parthenia was certainly “ quality ” to the very 
finger tips, and though her language had much of the 
big-mouthed vernacular of the cornfield nigger about 
it, she had made it her duty to see that her only child 
should be properly educated. The definition of that 
term was, to Aunt Parthenia, an ability to read and 
figure enough to secure a position as school teacher, 
and to be able to play on the organ in Sunday school. 
When Melissa first came home from boarding school, 
she tried to correct some of her mother’s careless 
methods of expressing her meaning, but Aunt Par- 
thenia would have none of it. 

“Go ’long, gal,” she retorted, indignantly. “ What’s 
cornin’ over you? Don’t you reckon I knows how to 
talk? Ain’t I ben ’sociatin’ wid de bes’ white folks 
they is ever sence I was knee-high to a grasshopper ? 
Hump ! ” 

Aunt Parthenia exaggerated, though, in this last 
statement. She had lived with her parents in the 
cotton-field until she was sixteen years old, and the 
influences of her earlier training had never been out- 
grown. She cheerfully stood over the cook-stove and 
wash-tub, winter and summer, that Melissa might have 
an education befitting her station in life, and there her 
duty to erudition ended. 


187 


The wedding guests were arriving rapidly, and Aunt 
Parthenia was bustling about here, there, and every- 
where; welcoming the people, attending to the fires, 
and trying to see that everything was -as it should be, 
all at once. One of her greatest anxieties was to “ keep 
dem niggers outen de supper-room twel de time come.” 

“ Lawd,” she muttered, “ why don’t Elder Claiborne 
come on, den us kin eat, and git supper off my mind.” 

“Aunt Parthenia,” mildly suggested the bridegroom 
at her elbow, “ why don’t you lock up the house — ” 

“ Lawd, honey, you see dat now, I never onct thought 
of dat! ‘Two heads is better’n one.’ Go ’long, Mr. 
Gully, an’ lock hit. I had done clean forgot de do’ had 
a key. Run over to de sto’, too, and tell de doctor an’ 
dem to come on. I wouldn’t have de gent’men to miss 
seein’ de weddin for nothin’ on earth, kine as dey’s 
ben all along.” 

When the bridegroom returned, having attended to 
all of his future mother-in-law’s commissions, sneaking 
along behind the three white guests and suffering from 
an attack of dry -grins. Elder Claiborne was just get- 
ting out of his buggy. The minister of the gospel 
readjusted his snowy cuffs and cravat, and carefully 
smoothed out the skirts of his Prince Albert coat with 
his neatly gloved hands, leaving his admiring attend- 
ant, and one or two others who had come forward to 
be of service, to see to putting up his horse. 

He took his tall silk hat in his hand and walked up 
the steps, speaking patronizingly to his acquaintances 
standing around him, in his rich, bland voice. The 
buzz of conversation hushed to a whisper as the august 
personage stepped upon the gallery, and the fiddle, that 
had given spasmodic squeaks every now and then, was 
laid upon the mantelpiece by way of removing tempta- 
tion; for Aunt Parthenia had gone to the fiddler and 
said : 


188 


“ Romeo, ef you dares to start a chune on dat fiddle 
’fo’ de bride ’pears in de do’way, I lay I will pintedly 
bust yo’ head wide open ! ” 

Aunt Parthenia was laboring under a great nervous 
strain, as Romeo could see by the light in her eye, and 
he knew better than to run any risks. 

When Elder Claiborne met his hostess at the door 
and inquired after the state of her health in his most 
stately and patronizing manner, she led him aside and 
said : 

“ Elder, Gully’s got a beautiful ring for de ceremony, 
but when de time comes jes let him han’ hit to her, 
’cause hits too much trouble fur her to git her glove 
ofi‘; and he kin put hit on her finger most any time, 
jes’ as well.” 

“ Certainly, Madam,” bowed the elder ; ‘‘ certainly, 
certainly, — but — a — does Mr. Gully understan’ your 
requeses in the matter ? ” 

“ Yes, sir, I done been ’splained hit all to him.” 

At last everything being in readiness, the door, upon 
which all eyes had been centered for moments of eager 
expectation, was thrown open with a flourish, and 
the bridesmaid and best man, followed by Lissy and 
Howard, marched slowly into the room to the animat- 
ing strains of “ The Dago from Italy,” and everybody 
pressed forward with keenest interest. 

When the bride and groom had proceeded to the 
center of the room and were met hy the elder, a great 
snowy hand was upraised impressively, and a solemn 
hush pervaded the room like a benediction. 

As the last words of the ceremony were concluded 
and the preacher congratulated Mr. and Mrs. Gully, a 
shout of relief went up from the over-taxed nerves of 
the audience that made the shingles overhead vibrate. 
The fiddle squeaked and squawked frantically, and old 
Romeo screamed : 

“ Git your podners fur de fust coddill ! ” 


189 


Hands and feet began to pat, and bodies swayed in 
delighted time to Romeo’s music, and everybody 
became wild with mirth. 

The three white men were the first, after the preach- 
er, to congratulate the happy couple and wish them 
joy, and their example w^as followed so energetically by 
the colored friends, who were to do everything that was 
necessary to make the occasion a success, that Gully 
felt he could endure no more, and dashed out on the 
gallery to get a breath of fresh air and regain his equi- 
librium. This, however, was an unfortunate move on 
his part, for the first man he encountered was Carroll, 
standing outside with Minor and Allison, and watching 
the scene through the open doorway. Gully saw his 
mistake and tried to dodge, but too late, for Carroll saw 
him and began : 

“ Hello, Howard, what’s your hurry — anybody sick?” 

Howard was again attacked with dry-grins, and could 
not say a word. Carroll caught him by his coat-sleeve 
and turned him toward the door. 

“ Here, here ; this will never do. What will your 
blushing bride think of your leaving her to struggle 
through this ordeal unaided by your protecting pres- 
ence ? ” 

Lissy did not seem to need sympathy. She stood in 
the middle of the room, surrounded by a chattering 
crowd, tossing her head and putting on airs with the 
ease of a veteran society leader. Minor was so forcibly 
struck with the absurdity of Carroll’s championship of 
the bride that he almost bent double in a shout of 
laughter, and the cold perspiration burst upon the 
bridegroom’s troubled brow. 

“ Lawd-a-mussy, Boss, for Gawd's sake don’t say no 
more! If I just had something to kinder brace me 
up like — ” 

Carroll snatched a small flask from his pocket and 

1 3 


190 


held it toward him tragically Howard laughed in 
spite of himself, and took the bottle, swallowing a big 
gulp, envied by the group of colored spectators. He 
handed it back to Carroll, but he waved it off, and one 
after another black hand reached out for it until it was 
empty. The last man who got possession of it had 
barely time enough to swallow the last drop and throw 
the flask out into the bayou, when Aunt Parthenia 
appeared in the doorway. 

“ Mr. Gully ! Howard ! Wha’ is dat fool nigger done 
hid hisself ! ” 

She would have seen him at first if her eyes had not 
been blinded by the change of light. Gully stepped 
forward sheepishly and received his orders : 

“Go git de bride and lead de way to do supper 
room. Bro’er Claiborne, please, sir, fur to ’nounce dat 
de ladies and gent’men will now walk out to supper.” 

Parthenia’s house stood some distance back of the 
store, facing the bayou, and the supper was spread in 
a vacant cabin a little further on. Between these two 
houses cotton-bagging had been stretched, to keep the 
bride’s silken skirts from being draggled in the mud. 
This precaution was hardly necessary, however, by the 
time the pathway was needed, for the rain had ceased 
falling, and the ground was beginning to freeze hard 
and clean. 

Elder Claiborne gallantly offered his arm to Sister 
White as soon as he finished announcing that supper 
was ready, but Parthenia declined imperiously. 

“ Neve’ min’, Bro’er Claiborne ; I ain’t got no time 
for foolishness. You carry Sister Crayton out to sup- 
per; she’s de most ’portantest comp’ny here,” and 
with these words she preceded the crowd, her long, 
swinging stride putting her at the cabin door before 
the others were fairly on their way. The fires were 
hastily rebuilt in the two rooms that were in use as 


191 


supper halls, and the lights were turned up brightly 
by the time Melissa and Howard took their places at 
one of the long tables. 

These tables were roughly built of plank upon 
trestles, and were high enough for the guests to eat 
from them comfortably while standing. They were 
covered with osnaburg, such as is used for cotton- 
pickers’ racks, borrowed from the store, together with 
the plates, dishes, cups and saucers, knives and forks 
necessary for the banquet, and this cotton fabric an- 
swered admirably as tablecloth. Upon this was crowd- 
ed such an abundance of delicious turkeys, salads, 
roast pigs, cakes, and custards as to make the wedding 
guests stare in amazement. They had come expecting 
to see something beyond the usual order of such things, 
but they were hardly prepared for such a spread as 
greeted their vision when they entered the brightly- 
lighted rooms. 

A small table, with chairs for three, and set with 
silver and linen, stood in one corner of the room where 
the bridal party was to sup, placed for the white guests, 
who came in with the rest and sat down. All who 
could get to the tables took their places, and the others, 
mostly half-grown boys and girls, grouped around the 
fire to patiently await their turn. 

When the noise of moving feet had subsided, Par- 
thenia looked to Brother Claiborne to ask the blessing. 

Mr. Claiborne had never had an opportunity to dis- 
play his eloquence before to these young men, nor any 
other white people, in fact, and he quickly saw his 
chance, and grasped it. He began with the conven- 
tial words of the blessing, and lengthened them into a 
prayer; then, waxing rhetorical, he spread into a dis- 
course of such length that Aunt Parthenia grew rest- 
less. 

She threw her downcast eyes first at the minister and 


192 


then at the bubbling cofifee-pot before the fire, and won- 
dered when be would be through. Brother Claiborne 
kept talking and the cofiee kept bubbling, and finally, 
fearful that the latter would all boil away before it 
could be used, prudence got the better of piety and 
Parthenia coldly watched her chance. Brother Clai- 
borne’s words flowed swiftly and smoothly between his 
tobacco stained teeth with no promise of cessation, but 
at last he had to draw his breath and in that instant’s 
time Parthenia gained the day. 

“ Amen ! ” she shouted briskly, and instantly began 
bustling about, rattling cups and clinking spoons with 
unnecessary energy. 

If the big golden turkey before him had suddenly 
exploded. Elder Claiborne could not have been more 
taken aback. He looked at Sister White for a moment 
in helpless consternation, then noticing that the gentle- 
men over in the corner were still bowed in prayer, he 
uttered a sonorous “ Amen! ” and picked up his knife 
and fork. 

Three pairs of shoulders were shaking convulsively. 
Carroll lifted his head with tears streaming down his 
scarlet cheeks, and catching the dancing eyes of his 
companions, he stamped his foot in a paroxysm of 
mirth and yelled at the top of his voice : 

“ Three cheers for the bride ! ” 

A shout of laughter went up in the corner so conta- 
gious that a hundred ^black throats took it up, and 
when it bad rolled away, the feasting began in earnest. 

When the supper was half over and the merriment 
at its height, a late guest arrived. Parthenia was too 
busy serving ambrosia to go forward and shake hands 
with him, so she looked across her shoulder and called 
out cordially : 

“ Come in, Allen ; glad to see you, son. Come up to 
the fire an’ warm yourseff.” 


193 


Allen, for it was Allen Whitney, came in and walked 
toward the fireplace, but first he went to Dr. Allison 
and handed him a dainty square envelope, such as 
young ladies fancy for their correspondence. 

Allison took the note without a word, and without 
looking at his companions quietly put it into his 
pocket and went on with his supper. 

“Ahem!” Carroll coughed and Allison unwittingly 
looked up, meeting his merry, twinkling eye. Carroll 
nudged Minor with his elbow, and both looked at Al- 
lison and laughed softly. Allison smiled too, and 
blushed, and knowing that he blushed, flushed with 
annoyance at his self betrayal. 

“ Oh, read your letter, Ed,” said Carroll, affecting in- 
difference. 

Allison laughed. “That’s all right; it will keep.” 

“ Eh ?” said Carroll, with a lunge at Allison’s pocket, 
“ then I’ll read it for you I ” 

“I swear you won’t! ” Allison said positively, though 
he laughed again and dodged Carroll’s hand. 

Carroll laughed and made several remarks calculated 
to irritate Allison, but he took it all good naturedly 
until the former, thinking he was not succeeding in his 
teasing, said sarcastically : 

“You are a lucky dog, Ed. I wish I had your 
chances at old Barrett’s tin through sweet little Nellie.” 

Like a flash Allison bounded to his feet, white with 
fury. “Sidney,” he said hotly, “if you say another 
word. I’ll blow your brains out.” 

Carroll retorted sullenly, and Allison left the room. 

He did not notice that Allen was following him un- 
til he reached Parthenia’s house, and recollecting that 
the rooms were warm and empty, he opened the door 
to go in ; Allen started up the stairs too, and still angry, 
Dr. Allison saw him and demanded : “ What do you 
want? ” 


194 


“ I thought I’d saddle your horse for you, sir,” the 
boy replied cautiously. 

“ Ah, anybody sick, — who wants me ? ” 

“Is — a — is you read your letter?” the darkey an- 
swered timidly. 

“No, come in. I’ll see about it.” Allison had for- 
gotten the note entirely. He went into the house, and 
going to a lamp, opened the envelope and read the con- 
tents of the communication. Then he went to the 
fireplace where Allen stood warming himself, and stuck 
the note and envelope under the wood in the hottest 
coals, and watched it burn to a crisp. The boy noticed 
the troubled lines that contracted his brow at he stood 
staring at the burnt note. 

Allison started from his reverie. “ That’s all right,” 
he said, “ saddle my horse ; I will go and get my over- 
coat and leggings.” 


CHAPTER XX. 


It was a long, cold ride, black as despair; and the 
sleet peppered Allison’s face until he almost groaned 
with the pain. Not realizing how low the mercury 
had sunk since nightfall, he started out unprepared to 
battle with any of the elements but mud or rain, and 
he was glad indeed when a faint light delineating the 
cracks about the doorway and window of the cabin he 
was seeking showed that it stood before him. His 
first thought when he dismounted was for the com- 
fort of his horse, and Allen, who knew the place well, 
took the animal to a dilapidated cotton house near, 
where he would be protected from the savage wind. 

When Allen returned to where the young man stood 
awaiting him, he whispered softly : 

“She told me to tell you to knock three times or 
whistle and call her name, so she would know it was 
you.” 

“ What are you going to do ? ” 

“ She told me to go on home and put up the horse. 
She said the ground would be froze and she w/)uld 
rather walk back, and she said you would go back 
with her.” 

The hurried exchange of words was uttered in low 
tones, and Dr. Allison’s voice sank even lower as he 
went on speaking : 

“All right, then, you can go. But, Allen — ” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“ Listen to me, boy. It hasn’t been long since I 
pulled you out of the jaws of death, do you know it ? ” 

“Yes, sir ! God A’mighty knows I ain’t forgot it. I 

195 


196 


certainly would a’died, doctor, if you hadn’t saved my 
life.” 

“ Well, listen. If ever you tell a soul on this earth, 
black or white, that I came here tonight to meet Miss 
Nellie, I swear by heaven I’ll kill you, if it’s the last 
act of my life ! Do you hear ? ” 

“ Good God, doctor, don’t talk that way ! ” There 
was an intensity in Allison’s voice that terrified the 
darkey. “ Doctor, I swear to God I won’t never tell. 
No sir, not if I know they’ll hang me if I don’t.” 

“ All right, then. I’ll trust you ; but remember! ” 

He reached out in the dark until he felt Allen’s 
hand, and put two silver dollars into it. Allen jumped 
on his horse again, glad to be gone, and Allison went 
up to the cabin door. He hesitated, finally giving the 
required signal, and noticed that his lips trembled 
when he tried to whistle. 

The door opened cautiously and he walked in. As 
the firelight fell full upon him, Nellie Barrett glided 
out of the shadows and put her hand in his, her eyes 
shining like stars at the pleasure of seeing him once 
again. 

The room was delightfully warm and cheerful as 
compared with the bitter cold and blackness without, 
and Allison, half frozen as he was, when he had 
clasped Nellie’s warm fingers in the rapture of meet- 
ing, crouched over the roaring fireplace to get the full 
benefit of its heat. The room was absolutely empty, 
except for themselves, two small wooden boxes, and a 
pile of wood near the hearth. The dark, rough walls 
were covered with dusty spiderwebs, dirtdauber nests, 
and old wasp nests, that showed up conspicuously in 
the rosy light of the fire, and presented a sorry atmos- 
phere of desolation. On the rude shelf over the fire- 
place a candle was sending up a dancing blaze to aid 
the flaming logs in dispelling the gloom. 


197 


While Allison warmed and dried the sleet from his 
coat and hat, Nellie sat down again upon one of the 
boxes near him. She was embarrassed, now that her 
lover was come, and the hundreds of ideas she had 
planned to exchange with him seemed all gone. Even 
the motive which had prompted her to send for him 
seemed unworthy of discussion, and she stared into the 
fire aimlessly. Allison, trying to be cheerful, and to 
put her at ease, took off his overcoat and leggings and 
hung them upon some nails he found driven into the 
wall. He drew the other box up to the hearth, close 
to her, and sat down, wondering if he might venture 
to take one the hands that lay idly in her lap, and 
clasp it as fondly as he loved it and its dear owner. 
He gazed into her troubled, downcast face, and dared 
not A silence he would have given worlds to avoid 
seemed imminent, and he tried to escape from it. 

“ Won’t you take your cloak and hood off? ” he said, 
leaning nearer, and speaking so solicitously in his 
effort to appear indifferent that the the girl started 
and almost gave way to her trepidation. She looked 
up appealingly, and he went on: “I am afraid you 
won’t feel the benefit of them when you go out into 
cold again.” 

Nellie looked at him still, scarcely conscious of his 
words. “ Dr. Allison,” she began, determined to be 
brave and end the embarrassment of their strained 
position ; “ Dr. Allison, I — I am afraid you think that 
I have lost my senses, sending for you to come to meet 
me here, but — but — ” She lowered her eyes and her 
chin quivered. Tears of mingled self-pity and self- 
blame sparkled on her eye-lashes, and she proceeded 
desperately : “ They are going to send me away, and 

— and — ” 

“What!” cried Allison, thoroughly aroused from 
self-consciousness. “ Where are they going to send 
you? When?” 


198 


No more acting was necessary now. Both had for- 
gotten themselves and everything else but each other. 
Nellie told him her mother’s plans for. forcing her into 
society, that she might be drawn from her heart ache. 
Conversation flowed rapidly and smoothly, to drift 
from the serious matter of their parting into renewed 
promises of trust and hope. 

Nellie had not seen her lover since several days be- 
fore the unhappy interview with her father which 
ended all intercourse with him ; and she had received 
no word, no message from him since his letter in reply 
to her own — the one she wrote him at her father’s 
command. 

When Dr. Allison wrote, he pleaded his love again, 
and begged her to trust in him and hope for the day 
when he would be able to overcome every objection 
now urged against him. This letter the young man 
enclosed, unsealed, in his answer to Mr. Barrett, and 
in the latter communication he told Nellie’s father 
boldly how devotedly he loved her, and told him that 
he would never abandon hope of winning her as long 
as she was unmarried and he was possessed of physical 
strength to provide her with a home such as she mer- 
ited. 

Mr. Barrett’s heart softened inwardly as he read the 
young man’s nobly worded letter, so filled was it with 
high resolve and justified pride, but he nevertheless 
gratefully received Allison’s promise that he would on 
no condition seek an interview with Nellie without his 
consent. 

Mr. Barrett’s stern letter stung Dr. Allison to the 
depth of his strong tempestuous nature, and left him 
benumbed by his crushed hopes and the knowledge 
that he could not see Nellie, nor even receive letters to 
lighten the sorrows of their enforced separation. He 
applied himself to study and work with every faculty 


199 


that his aching heart left him in command of, and 
proudly determining to give the elder man no excuse 
for harboring resentment toward him, he went to no 
house or place of amusement where he would be likely 
to meet Nellie. He longed to see her, daily — hourly, — 
and now that an opportunity to do so was thrust upon 
him, he felt no compunction in availing himself of it 
with all the ardor suppression engendered. 

Nellie took ofi her cloak, and Allison hung it up for 
her; then he knelt down and took off her overshoes, 
placing them, with a delightful feeling of being her 
protector and advisor, where they would keep warm 
until they were needed. 

He took his seat again, and at last obtained posses- 
sion of her coveted hand ; and this he caressed rebel- 
liously, against Nellie’s laughing protests, until she 
gave up all effort to dissuade him and abandoned it to 
his kisses. 

“ It is not yours,” Allison asserted, his magnificent 
eyes and smiling, flushed face expressing all the pleas- 
ure the meeting was to him. “ It is not yours at all. 
You gave this hand to me the night of the tournament 
ball, and you have since promised — yes, sworn to me 
that no one else shall have it ! ” 

The moments flew on gilded wings, taking with 
them myriads of sweet nothings, — that are nothing, 
indeed, except when freighted with magnetic glances 
and melodious murmuring voices that in themselves 
are eloquent language to man and maid ensnared in the 
meshes of that cobweb fabric, cable-strengthened love. 
Rapture, as he watched her every movement, did not 
wholly blind the lover, and as he more closely studied 
the exquisite face before him, he saw that he was not 
the only one who had suffered. Nellie’s cheeeks were 
bright with color a^nd her eyes sparkled, but Allison 
knew that it was pleasure’s, not health’s signet, for the 


200 


face had lost somewhat of its soft roundness and her 
dress — one he had often seen her wear before — was 
loose, and moved with her breathing. There was 
something besides which caught his attention, and 
made him solicitous. He spoke of this last. 

“Ah,” laughed Nellie, “your eyes and ears are too 
keen. This is only a little cold, and will soon pass 
away.” 

“Yes, it seems but a trifle,” he said, reassuringly, 
“ but I am afraid your coming out into the cold tonight 
will make it worse. You must promise me to take 
good care of my precious girl when I can’t be with her, 
won’t you ? ” 

“Yes, I’ll try,” Nellie laughed. 

“And I want you to promise to make her take some 
medicine, too,” he persisted. “ Won’t you do that?” 
he asked with playful seriousness. Nellie laughed 
again and without waiting for her to promise or refuse 
Dr. Allison went to the wall where his overcoat hung, 
and taking a tiny medicine case from his pocket, he 
brought her a capsule of quinine. She took it from 
his hand and gazed wistfully into his eyes while he 
talked, hardly hearing what his directions for taking 
the medicine were. She smiled faintly when he had 
finished, and a little pained expression lingered about 
her mouth as she said : 

“ I wish you would give me something else, too.” 

“ What ? ” he said lightly, yet awed by the pathos of 
her manner. 

“ You have given me something to make me well, 
now give me something to make me sick — too sick to 
leave home tomorrow.” She laid her hand deprecat- 
ingly on his. “Can’t you — won’t you?” 

Allison moved uneasily and tried to dispell her weird 
mood. She leaned forward eagerly, her eyes growing 
black and her cheeks paling. 


201 


“You don’t know how strange I feel,” she said earn- 
estly. “I feel that I ought not — I must not go away 
from home tomorrow. Are you superstitious?” she 
queried. “Do you believe anything will happen to 
mother and father if I go away ? ” 

Allison took both her hands protectingly in his and 
stroked them gently. 

“ My precious one, you are nervous and excited to- 
night. Waiting in this old house so long for me, alone, 
has had its effect upon your nervous system. You 
knew that it is haunted, didn’t you,” he said gaily, en- 
deavoring to drive away her earnestness. 

“ Yes, I knew ; that was why I chose it. Allen tried 
to scare me from coming, and he didn’t stay one min- 
ute after he built the fire. I am not afraid of spirits 
or ghosts,” she smiled, “ although the rats and mice 
have made some strange noises in the next room — 
there’s some corn stored in there — but that’s not it; I’m 
not afraid of that^ it’s this strange feeling within that I 
dread. True, it is only since I have been here that it 
has come to me.” 

“ You ought not to have come to this desolate place — ” 

“But,” she said, looking at him, “I wanted to see 
you—” 

“ Darling ! my precious, brave, sweet love ! ” 

That she would endure so much for him, proved her 
love more more than all the verbal expressions he had 
ever coaxed from her and Allison knew no way to 
thank her as he wished. To be with her, to clasp her 
hand, to know that she loved him fondly, truly, de- 
spite her father’s prejudice, made his happiness seem 
divine. He told her again of all his love, and she for- 
got her forebodings in the perfect joy of the moment. 
They talked of the future so bright with hope of dis- 
pelled difficulties and neither of them could or would 
believe that fate’s decree had aught for them but bliss. 


202 


Nellie looked at her watch again and started up. 
“ My,” she cried, “ how late it is ! I must go at once.” 

Allison would gladly have detained her, but she 
shook her head and there was nothing for him to do 
but acquiesce. He assisted her on with cloak and rub- 
bers, and assumed his overcoat. 

He took his hat, and together they stood near the 
door, each reluctant to conclude the meeting which 
would be the last for many months. Allison looked 
down upon her. She was so pretty; so daintily, so 
plaintively sweet. She was going away, and he would 
see her no more for weary months. 

Allison’s heart beat so loudly, he thought she must 
hear it and guess its secret. He longed to take her in 
his arms, and enfolding her to his bounding heart, kiss 
her as fervently, as ardently as he loved her. He 
trembled and turned away. 

Once he had yielded to his overmastering impulses 
and he dared not follow their dictates again. Once be- 
fore, only a few days after the tournament, he visited 
her, and after three hours spent delightfully, the clock 
struck ten and he felt compelled to go. The night was 
so deliciously cool without, so warm within, that they 
had not gone into the house at all. Nellie was sitting 
on the gallery when he arrived and he sank into a 
chair beside her there. 

The moon was so bright, the velvety breezes so 
dreamy, that Allison lingered, and having bade her 
good bye, they spoke of the night and its beauty — of 
anything to delay the parting. 

Nellie leaned against a column that supported the 
roof; the mellow moonlight flooding about her and 
mingling in her soft white dress made it seem a part of 
its silver glow. The seductive roses at her belt and the 
penetrating fragrance floating about her from the gar- 
den, caught up the langorous mysticism of the South- 


203 


ern night and made her seem a spirit — a subtle breath 
of luxury. 

She was pensive or laughing and vivacious by turns, 
thrilled with her new bliss and the mere joy of living. 

Allison feasted his poetic nature upon her loveliness, 
enraptured. He said something about her being a 
siren who had ensnared bis soul. He was standing 
near — recklessly near — and she lifted her face with a 
sparkling retort. 

Before he realized what he was doing, he had caught 
her in his arms and was straining her to his bosom. 
His head sank until his lips were upon hers in fervid 
ecstacy. For a brief moment she seemed to him to 
be returning his caresses — then she bounded from his 
embrace and stood apart, her eyes flashing, her cheeks 
scarlet, her breath coming in quick, hard gasps. 

He returned her gaze rebuked and miserable. There 
was nothing he would not have given to assuage her 
anger. There was nothing he could say or do. His 
first thought was to fall upon his knees at her feet and 
implore her forgiveness, but his tongue seemed numb. 
He turned and left her, unpardonable to himself, and 
feeling that he was one who deserved only banishment. 

He rode moodily homeward, never knowing that 
what he mistook for anger was fear — dismay at the 
emotions that were electrically transmitted by his lips, 
his arms. Never knowing that he had ruthlessly 
touched a chrysalis and liberated a timid, pulsing 
butterfly — trembling with surprise, like one passing 
from dullness and gloom, awakened in a vista of radi- 
ant light, perfume, and music. They parted in mis- 
understanding, — he to go on his long ride to Lauren’s, 
inwardly cursing the imp of mischief who had precipi- 
tated him into perpetual darkness, she to fly to the 
solitude of her own room, and there take refuge in 
woman’s balm for over-taxed sensitiveness and cry 
herself to sleep. 


204 


When tHey met again, Allison saw her blush hotly 
and turn her eyes away. He was afraid to approach 
to crave the forgiveness he had resolved to ask, and 
she, noting that he shunned her, thought he deemed 
his deed unworthy of a second thought. 

The breach was closed in time by assiduous attention 
to her slightest wish upon his part. She was keenly 
perplexed by it all, but she loved him so deeply, so 
tenderly that she soon ceased to question his love in 
return. 

As he stood so near her now in the little isolated cabin 
near the woods, he yearned to take her in his arms 
none the less strongly. He longed to press her to his 
aching heart, but he dared not. He could not make 
her angry now — now that she was going away. 

He took both her beautiful soft hands in his once 
again, and pressed them and kissed them gently. 
Nellie’s head was bowed, and he stooped to see her 
face. 

“ My precious, my sweet, sweet love, you are going 
away — will you not let me kiss you, even if only 
once ? ” 

Tear drops of sorrow, of keenest grief, rolled into the 
girl’s eyes, and hung heavy upon her long lashes, but 
her lips were mute. 

Allison bent his head still lower, and hesitated. 
She was so still, so silent. He pressed his lips linger- 
ingly upon her own, once, twice, three times. 

He blew the candle out, and coming back to where 
she was still standing, her head bent, he put her hand 
in his arm and they left the cabin,’ closing the door 
behind them. 


CHAPTER XXI. 


A big bay window in the front of the depot at 
Lauren’s stared gloomily south across the railway 
track, and away east and west on either hand to where 
the track came to a point in the vague distance. 

It was terribly cold. The mud out in the wagon- 
ruts was frozen as hard as brick, and Alligator Bayou 
was covered with a thick skin of ice strong enough to 
bear up a man’s weight with ease. The depot roof, the 
platform, and the iron rails of the railroad', as well as 
the store and gin in the distance, were covered with a 
coating of sleet that made them gleam in the cold dawn 
and reflect the faint light stealing over the world as a 
herald of the coming day. 

Long before its bearer could be heard, the lurid eye 
of the locomotive glowed afar off* in the west, like an 
earth-bound star; motionless it seemed in its unswerv- 
ing approach. 

Nearer and louder the rumbling grew, and the pow- 
erful serpent, shrieking like a descending dragon of 
old, dashed through the ice-bound forest of the great 
swamps and drew up at the station, panting with im- 
patience at the check put upon its flight. The engineer 
blew several short alarming calls; but the pulsing of 
his machinery was the only answering sound that 
broke the profound stillness of the dawn. 

“ Everybody asleep again,” muttered the conductor 
to the brakeman, and the engineer blew a louder, 
shriller blast than before. The conductor w^aited in 
his snug caboose, but there was no sign of life without 
to be heard. 

“ I’ll be switched if I can see how that fellow Minor 


206 


caa sleep with all this racket going on,” the conductor 
grumbled, with increasing irritation. 

“ Better go wake him up. I spect Mr. Minor’s been 
takin’ more Chris’mas aboard ’n what is good for him,” 
the negro ventured. 

“ Looks like it.” The conductor reluctantly climbed 
down from his compartment and walked along the 
crunching side-track. He ran up the whitened, slip- 
pery steps and knocked loudly upon the nearest door. 
The ice -glazed woods surrounding the plantation 
echoed the blows of his fist mockingly ; the only sound 
belonging to the station was the musical crackling of a 
tall cottonwood tree, whose gaunt limbs were struggling 
to throw off their weight of ice to the winds as they 
blew through its branches. 

He knocked again, louder than ever, and the woods 
echoed as before. He was getting cold, and he stamped 
his feet to warm them. 

He knocked again, and turned to walk the length of 
the gallery to keep his blood in motion. He passed 
the bay window twice, and then idly turning his head 
in passing the third time, his attention was arrested 
by a dim light burning in the lamp hanging from the 
ceiling. As he noticed the light, he walked closer to 
the window and peered into the gloom of the room. 
It was so dark within that few articles were visible, 
but there was something on the floor that made him 
start in surprise and press his face to the wire netting 
stretched across the casement as protection to the glass ; 
and as he gazed, a cry of horror burst from his lips. 

The engineer and fireman, indifferently watching his 
movements from the cab, heard the conductor’s excla- 
mation, and read the expression upon his face as he 
turned and called to them excitedly. As they left 
their post and ran to their companion’s assistance they 
were joined by several negroes, who came over to see 


207 


the train, from the wedding festivities still in progress 
at Parthenia’s. As one man, the alarmed crowd pressed 
against the wire screen at the window, and beheld a 
sight that made lips blanch and blood run cold with 
awe. 

Upon the floor, with his face toward the ceiling, lay 
Sidney Carroll, a dark stain spread about him from 
beneath his back. 

«Dead!” 

“Murdered!” 

“ Break open the door ; perhaps we can save him. 
Where’s Minor? ” 

“ Go for Dr. Allison. Hurry ! He sleeps in a room 
in the back of the store.” 

“What is Carroll doing here? He sleeps at the 
store, too, in a room adjoining the doctor.” 

Men talked wildly, and ran about like imbeciles. 
The door was strongly locked, and the key was on the 
inside. Some one brought an ax from the caboose and 
forced the door open, and just as they succeeded in 
gaining access to the interior of the building Dr. Alli- 
son came running, putting on his coat as he came. 

The men crowded into the office, and the conductor 
stooped and lifted Carroll’s head, but laid it back 
gently. 

“No use, boys,” he said, “ it’s all over.” 

Allison stood staring at the dead man like one in a 
dream. The conductor spoke to him twice before he 
answered. 

“I asked,” he repeated, “where is Minor?” 

“Minor? Oh! I don’t know. Isn’t he in his 
room ? ” 

The crowd moved toward Minor’s room, that was 
back of the waiting-room on the left of the office, 
leaving Dr. Allison standing near Carroll, staring at 
his calm, peaceful face; but when they reached the 


208 


doorway they were met by a scene even more awful 
than the one they left behind them in the office. The 
room was small, and in the center, prone upon the 
floor, lay the body of Vincent Minor. 

The bed was smooth, and everything else in the 
room seemed undisturbed. The men who came to the 
door stood there speechless with horror. The form 
they had left was awful, but it was mute. It told no 
tale, save of cruel murder. It lay upon its back, so 
calm that but for the pool of congealed blood lying 
thick about it, it might be there in tranquil sleep. 
But this one was eloquent with a pathos that made 
careless men hesitate in pain. 

Nature’s first powerful law was stamped in every 
line of the rigid, lifeless form. It fell as it had entered 
the room, face downward, with an outstretched hand 
almost within reach of a loaded gun standing against 
the wall. 

The conductor roused himself. “Come, boys,” he 
said softly. “ Business is business. The train must 
go on, and the authorities in Asola must be notified as 
soon as possible.” 

The railroad men transacted no business at Lauren’s 
Station that morning. The flat cars piled high with 
cotton bales, and the box cars loaded with seed, that 
stood awaiting their coming, were left standing where 
they were upon the side track, and the train pulled 
out and went on its way, leaving Dr. Allison alone 
with the dead. 

Alone! For although dozens of negroes crowded 
about the bay window and gazed with superstitious 
dread upon the prostrate form of the man they knew 
so well, or sat around the stove in the waiting-room, 
there was no white man there from the departure of 
the train to the coming of the hand-car that brought 
the coroner and sheriff' from Asola. 


209 


The office doors were closed when the trainmen left, 
and Allison took a chair and sat by the stove in the 
waiting-room adjoining. His breakfast was brought 
him there, and taken away again almost untasted. 

Negroes came and went, sitting in the waiting-room 
or standing on the gallery talking in subdued tones, 
and Allison scarcely saw or heard them. Women and 
children passed back and forth, and whispered with 
the men, or to each other. 

Howard Gully hardly left Dr. Allison’s side from 
the time the murdered men were discoved, for any 
cause. He sat in a chair on the other side of the stove 
from him, and pretended to be asleep, to prevent others 
from talking to him. Melissa came in and spoke to 
him without attracting Dr. Allison’s attention, until 
she said : 

“ Can’t none of us do nothing with her. She’s cried 
and cried, and keeps sayin’, ‘ They’s murdered my 
baby ! they’s murdered my baby ! ’ till she looks like 
she’ll ’most go crazy.” 

“Who are you talking about, Melissa?” Allison 
asked. 

“About mama,” the bride answered, coming over to 
where he sat. “I’m gettin’ so worried about her, 
doctor.” 

“ Poor Aunt Parthenia ! She is worn out with her 
preparations for the wedding,” Allison said, compas- 
sionately. He went over to the bench that ran along 
the wall, and taking up his medicine bags from where 
he had left them the evening before, he measured out 
some medicine and gave it to the girl. “ Carry this to 
Aunt Parthenia, and tell her to take it ; then make 
her lie down. Your mother needs rest, and must go 
to bed. Have you had any sleep yourself? ” 

“No sir. We was still dancin’ when the train come, 
and some of the men who wanted to see it, come over. 


210 


and run back to tell us about what had happened. I 
was so scared I started over here just like I was, but 
mama made me change my dress, then me an’ her come 
on just as quick as we could.” 

“Go, then, and go to sleep. Howard, you go too. 
If I need anything, I’ll send for you; there will be 
plenty of men here all day.” 

“ La, doctor, I don’t need no sleep ! ” protested How- 
ard, scornfully. “ I can sit up all night, and do my 
work next day as good as the best of ’em. You go, 
though, Lissy,” he urged, turning to the girl. “You 
and Aunt Parthenia is plumb tuckered out.” He fol- 
lowed his new-made wife to the gallery, and added in 
a lower tone, “ I don’t want to leave doctor ; he looks 
so ’stressed. He might need me, and, you know, I’m 
the only ’pen’ence he’s got. ’Sides, the coroner will 
git here directly.” 

“ Is you had your brekafas’ ? ” 

“ I don’t want nothin’. I was eatin’ more supper 
when the train come.” 

“ There’s some hot coffee in the kitchen.” 

“Nemmind. I don’t want nothin’.” 

Melissa went back to her mother, who sat in the 
kitchen belonging to the young men’s apartments at 
the store, still crying and sobbing, and Gully went 
again to his seat in the waiting-room. 

Two darkies sitting on a bench near a window were 
discussing the merits of their respective coon dogs, and 
further in the room another was telling of his deer 
hunt the Saturday before Christmas. There was the 
hum of voices all around the place, but the hush pre- 
vailing told of the presence of that mighty, ultimate 
victor of all breathing things. 

Outside, standing near a cotton car, with the winter 
sun shining upon them, was a little group of darkies 
talking earnestly. They were intimate friends, and 


211 


had withdrawn to this secladed place to exchange their 
views in privacy. All of them were tenants on the 
place, who had lived there, some of them, half a life- 
time, and all of them long enough to learn to like the 
two murdered men sincerely. The men shivered and 
stuck their hands deeper into their pockets as the keen 
north wind swept over and around their protecting 
car and whistled in their ears. The tragedy which 
had been enacted while they reveled in the delights of 
feasting and dancing not five hundred yards away, 
filled their simple, superstitious brains with a dread 
that was paralyzing. 

“Lord, Lord, Lord, who could a-done it? Who 
could have done such a terrible deed?” old Bob mut- 
tered for the twentieth time since he had looked upon 
that cruel scene in the depot. He shook his gray 
head mournfully from side to side, and groaned. 

“Unc’ Bob, you keeps a askin’ that question, and 
God knows I’d like to git it answered,” said a middle- 
aged man named Rufus. He had a thoughtful yellow 
face, expressive of more than the average amount of 
negro intellect. He moved about uneasily, and after 
casting a hurried glance over his shoulder, leaned 
forward and spoke tentatively : 

“Gent’men,” he said, “1 been thinkin’ hard this 
mawnin’, and I keeps a-w^onderin’ what made Doctor 
git so mad with Mr. Sidney las’ night. I never seen 
Doctor so mad before in all my life.” 

The man who was standing nearest him started 
back as if Rufus had dealt him a blow. “God 
A’mighty, Rufus, is you stark crazy?” he cried. 
“ Good Lord, man, don’t you never say nothin’ like 
that agin as long as you live ! ” 

“ ’Scuse me. Bill,” Rufus returned, contritely. “’Fore 
God, I never meant nothin’ ; I was just a-thinkin’.” 

“Well, man, keep your thinkin’ to yourseff,” Bill 


212 


answered excitedly, almost angrily. “God A’mighty, 
nigger, if such talk was to git out — ” 

“Bill, you don’t understan’ me,” Rufus explained, 
worried. “ I knowed I was talkin’ ’mongst my Men’s 
and Doctor’s Men’s. God knows, man, I’d keep my 
mouth shut till it growed together, ’fore I’d say the 
word that would git Doctor into trouble.” 

“Of course you would, Rufus; of course you would. 
Bill knows that as well as any of us does,” interposed 
old Bob, hurriedly. He raised his horny old hand and 
scratched the white wool beneath his hat. “ Gent’men,” 
he went on, “ hit gen’ly takes old Bob a long time to 
turn anything over in his mind, but here, sence you 
all been talkin’, it’s come to me, there ain’t nothin’ in 
what Rufus says. I tell you, gent’men, sirs, Doctor 
ain’t de kin’ of man what hits another in de back.” 

“You mighty right! ” several of the group declared 
positively. 

“ No sir! ” went on Bob with confidence. “Ef Doc- 
tor got anything agin you, he’s goin’ up to your face — 
you hear me? ” 

“Yes, Lawd ! ” 

“ I just tell you what’s a fack,” Bill asserted, stoutly. 
“ Doctor’s one of them kind what don’t know what 
‘ scared ’ means.” 

“Now your shoutin’!” Bob declared approvingly. 
He went on reflectively: “Mr. Sidney was a good 
friend to me and Lord knows I’m sorry he come by 
his death like he did, but he certn’y could be aggra- 
vatin’ when he sot hissefi to tease; spec’ly when he was 
about half full.” 

“ Unc’ Bob, Mr. Carroll was all right last night. He 
was as sober as a judge; him and Mr. Minor both. I 
was in de sto’ when Gully come over and tol’ ’em Aunt 
Parthenia said ‘ Come on,’ and Mr. Minor says, says he : 
‘ Shall we take somethin’ before we go over,’ and Mr. 


213 


Carroll thowed his bead up, and winked jist so, he did, 
an’ says: ‘No, sir, I never drinks when I’m goin’ in 
the presence of ladies! ’ Rufus you seen him, you was 
right there.” 

“ Hyah, ha, ha ! ” the group chorused appreciatively. 

“ Wasn’t that just like him now ? ” Bob said, rubbing 
his hands together. “Ha, ha! Mr. Sidney would a 
had his joke ef hit was at his own fun’al ! ” 

A sudden recollection of the cold, stark figure on the 
floor there, so near, struck him with remorse, and crest- 
fallen at his momentary levity, two big tears gathered 
in his withered eyes and coursed slowly down his 
wrinkled cheeks. He shook his head to throw them 
off and tried to keep his weakness undetected, but there 
was no need to conceal his tears, for the other eyes were 
bent resolutely upon the frozen ground and only stern 
determination on the part of the men who owned them 
kept them dry. 

At eleven o’clock the coroner and several gentlemen 
came on a hand-car, and the inquest was held, result- 
ing a verdict of murder by some person or persons un- 
known ; then the coroner and all but two of his party 
returned to Asola, and these two waited with Dr. Alii- 
son until the west bound train arrived bringing the 
committees sent by the Knights of Pythias and Knights 
of Honor to prepare the bodies for burial and care for 
them until the grief-stricken relatives could arrive. 

Next day Col. Laurens came up from New Orleans, 
bringing with him a man to take Carroll’s place as 
manager of the plantation, and also a detective upon 
whom all hopes were turned for the unraveling of the 
dire mystery. 

The detective looked wise and hung about the station 
several days ; then scraped the black alluvial soil from 
his shoes and went back to New Orleans, having thrown 
no light whatever upon the tragedy. 


214 


In the meantime, the parish authorities were doing 
their best to discover the murderer. Several negroes 
who bore unenviable reputations or who were supposed 
capable of bearing animosity toward the unfortunate 
men were arrested and taken to jail in A sola to await 
the January term of court. 

That robbery was the motive for the crime seemed 
improbable, for there was a large sum of money in the 
office safe,, which contained the plantation deposits as 
well as the railroad moneys ; after the men were killed, 
no attempt had been made to enter the depot. 

Minor and Carroll were wild, intemperate fellows, 
but they were universally liked and had many warm 
friends throughout the parish, and no one knew of any 
act of their’s that could warrant a revenge so cold- 
blooded, so dastardly as that they should be shot in the 
back through a window, when they were evidently 
quietly at work in their office. 


CHAPTER XXII. 


When court convened a week or two later, the grand 
jury took up the case and examined the negroes who 
had'fbeen arrested upon suspicion. This jury, composed 
of seven negroes and five white men, the foreman being 
one of the latter, questioned one after another of the 
prisoners without eliciting any evidence that could 
either incriminate them or point to a solution of the 
mystery. The foreman was baffled, and was becoming 
exasperated. The last darkey was brought in, and 
feeling that he was wasting time and gaining nothing 
for his pains, the foreman turned to him in disgust 
and said : 

“ I suppose you were at that eternal wedding, too, 
like everybody else?” 

“ Yes, sir, I was da.” 

“ And nothing happened, I suppose, — nothing at all 
out of the ordinary? You saw nothing and heard 
nothing calculated to surprise you ? Nothing astonished 
you while you were there ? ” 

The negro shifted his weight from one leg to the 
other, and scratched his head in perplexity as he stared 
stupidly at the foreman. He could not comprehend 
his sarcasm, but he did understand his words, and an- 
swered somewhat at random : 

“Well, boss, dere sho’ did somethin’ happen what 
’stonished me.” 

The foreman stopped drumming on the table and 
looked up. 

“ Well?” 

“Yes, sir. You see, boss, hit was dis way. Me an’ 
my ole lady was stannin’ at de fur eend of de table fom 
215 


216 


Br’er Claibon an’ de bride an’ Gully ; an’ close like to 
de little table over in de corner what Sis Parthenia had 
sot dere fur de white gent’men fom de sto’. Hit was 
like so : I was a-stannin’ like here, wid ole Unc John- 
son Clipper on my right han’ side, an’ my ole lady on 
my lef ’ han’ side, and Burrill Coleman he was right at 
de eend of de table ’zackly, an’ I was a-stannin’ so as 
evry time I looked up I could see dem white gent’men 
just a-laughin’ an’ a-havin’ of more fun to deyselves ’n 
a little! An’ bimeby, sir, I looked up (’cos I was 
mighty busy wid a turkey wing, I was, sir, ’cos dat 
supper of Sis Parthenia pintedly w'as good eatin’) — but 
as I was sayin’, boss, bimeby I looked up, ’cos I heerd 
de Doctor say, kind a laughin’, he did, an’ he says, says 
he : ‘I swear you won’t 1 ’ An’ den Mr. Carroll kep’ 
a-devilin’ him, he did, jus’ like he alius done eve’ybody 
— he kep’ on wid his foolishness, sir, twel de Doctor 
jumped up, sir, he did, jest as mad as a hornet, an’ he 
says : ‘ Sidney, ef you say another word, Pll blow your 
brains out!’ and den, sir, he jest marched outen de do’, 
sir, wid his head sot up in dat proud way a hisen, an’ 
I never seen him no mo’ twel nex’ day.” 

The white men on the jury exchanged anxious 
glances. 

“ Did the rest of you fellows see and hear all this ? ” 
the foreman asked. 

“Yes, sir,” some of the negroes answered, in various 
tones of surprise. 

“ Why didn’t you say something about it then ? ” 

“ I never thought about it,” one prisoner answered. 

“Lawd,” said another, “de murder clean knocked all 
of dat outen my head.” 

After putting a few more pointed questions, the fore- 
man ordered the prisoners returned to jail. 

That afternoon the sheriff went to Lauren’s Station, 
and Edward Allison was arrested on charge of the 
murder of Sidney Carroll and Vincent Minor. 


217 

The news flew like wild-fire, and consternation was 
intense. 

Dr. Allison made no opposition when the sheriff told 
him w’hy he had come. He stared at him hard for a 
few moments, as if doubting his own senses, and then 
he told him he was ready to go. 

The eight-mile trip was made quickly and pleasantly 
enough, for Captain Barringer, the sheriff, talked upon 
general topics as entertainingly as was his habit, and 
Allison almost forgot why he was with him, until the 
strong brick jail, near the Asola court-house, came into 
view. He shuddered and turned his face away. 

As they got off the hand-car in Asola, Captain Bar- 
ringer looked calmly at his prisoner and said with his 
brisk cordiality : 

“ Doctor, I invite you to be my guest for a few days. 
Of course you understand that I must keep you under 
surveillance, for form’s sake, but I can’t put you over 
there with the negroes, you know.” 

Allison grasped the speaker’s hand and pressed it 
warmly, unable to express his gratitude, and the two 
walked together silently. 

Dr. Allison had never visited at the Sheriff’s house 
nor met Mrs. Barringer, and he flushed hotly when the 
introduction was performed; but Mrs. Barringer greeted 
him so naturally, with so much easy grace, that he was 
relieved of much of the embarrasment that meeting her 
under such trying circumstances entailed, and supper 
being announced soon afterward, the remainder of the 
evening passed in agreeable conversation. 

Dr. Allison enjoyed all of the attention due a guest, 
but he was none the less a prisoner. Captain Barringer 
occupied his room with him at night, and at no time 
during the day was he or one of his deputies further 
than arm’s length from him. 

The case was not to be called for several days, and in 


218 


the interim greatest interest was manifested as to 
what the result of the trial would be. When taken 
before the grand jury, Dr. Allison had refused to give 
any account of himself from the time of his leaving 
the table at the wedding supper to the moment when 
he was called to the depot after the train arrived. His 
friends were anxious when his attitude before the grand 
jury became known, and those who knew him only 
slightly shook their heads gravely. That instinct in 
human nature, always prompt to accept the worst view 
of a fellow creature’s character, was quick to take the 
hint, and, setting aside everything that had gone before 
to the contrary, attributed motives for the prisoner’s 
silence that argued against him. His former friends 
extended to him the usual hand-clasp, but his sensitive 
instincts were not slow to divine that deep in every 
man’s heart there rankled a doubt, a suspicion, that he 
might be a murderer of the vilest type. 

It was in the afternoon of the third day of his arrest 
— after the grand jury had found a true bill against 
him — that he sat with Captain Barringer in the latter’s 
sitting-room trying to read. The door opened and the 
Syrian stood before him. Both gentlemen were sur- 
prised at the peddler’s abrupt entrance, and the sheriff, 
who knew her well, arose and asked with his kindly 
courtesy : 

“ Ah, Miss Mene, you wish to see the Madam ? Come 
this way ; I think you will find her engaged with house- 
hold affairs in the kitchen.” 

“ No, no,” the woman answered, in her soft foreign 
intonations, as she waved him off; “I saw the lady; 
she tell me I come in.” 

She put her satchels upon the floor near the door- 
way, and stood pinning and unpinning her shawl, 
abstractedly. “I not want to sell,” she went on, and 
then hesitated, turning her weird black eyes first to 


219 


one and then the other. “No, I not sell; I want to 
see Doctor.” 

“ Ah, yes,” the sheriff said. “ One of your patients, 
Doctor.” 

“Yes,” Omene said, quickly, “you go, Cappitin ; I 
want to see Doctor.” 

Barringer hesitated. “ Dr. Allison, I can leave the 
room if you wish, but for your sake, as well as mine — ” 

“ No, Captain, do not leave the room. Do not lay 
yourself open to criticism,” Allison answered quickly. 
“ I will take her to this window, and she can tell me 
what she wants.” 

He saw as soon as he had spoken that the woman 
w’as not satisfied, but there was no alternative. He 
could not imagine what induced her to come to him, 
for though he had seen her often in her wandering 
from cabin to cabin, he had never heard of her being 
sick. 

The woman followed him to the window furthest 
from the fireplace, where Barringer sat, and dropped 
upon the floor in oriental fashion, her back against the 
curtain and her eyes turned so that she could watch 
every movement the sheriff made. There was a large 
armchair between him and Dr. Allison, that she had 
pushed there in passing, seemingly accidentally. She 
motioned to a low chair, and Allison brought it and 
sat down facing her. 

“ Make believe,” she whispered, holding up her 
wrist. 

Allison bent forward and took her calm, dark wrist. 
As he brought his head close to her own, she fixed her 
glowing oriental eyes upon upon him and asked, in- 
tently : 

“ Why don’t you tell?” 

Allison looked at her questioningly. 

“ Where you were when the murder was done,” she 
went on, holding him with her gaze. 


220 


Allison started. What do you mean ? ” he asked, 
coldly. 

“ I mean you must tell.” 

“ I can not tell,” he said, dully. 

“ Then Omene will.” 

“What!” 

“ Hush,” she said quickly, “ not so loud. I know — 
I know all, everything.” 

“You? Good heavens! Who has told you?” 

Omene warned him again. 

“ I was there — there before she came. I often sleep 
there when I can’t get back. I was there,” she re- 
peated ; “ I know.” 

Allison covered his face with his hands and groaned. 

“ Sh — ! You will tell, now,” she said, nodding her 
head complacently, “ and then you be free.” 

He grew white to the lips. “No, no! My God! 
don’t you see I can’t ? ” 

The woman looked at him in amazement, and then 
slowly reading his eyes, and the color that flashed for 
an instant in his face, she sat still, thinking deeply. 
At last she looked into his face wonderingly, and 
mused, half to herself : 

“ I don’t see,” she said slowly. “ I was there all the 
time. You can prove by me. I saw everything, and 
heard everything. I tell; it be all right. You marry 
her, see ? ” She smiled at her happy solution of the 
difficulty. * 

“ I canH marry her,” he whispered back ; “ her father 
won’t let me. That was why she sent for me. Didn’t 
you say you heard all she said ? ” 

“ Yes,” the woman said, in her quaint, musical way, 
“ but I didn’t see how she mean.” 

Suddenly a bright thought seemed to strike her, and 
her eyes sparkled gaily. 

“ Ah ! you tell, then he have to let her marry you.” 


221 


He laughed — laughed almost hysterically, and fell 
into despondency deeper than ever; and Omene was 
serious. 

“You must tell,” she pleaded; “they might—” she 
broke off suddenly. 

“Yes, I know,” he said, bitterly, “they may hang 
me, or, worse, they may imprison me for life.” He 
took the woman’s hand and pressed it gratefully. It 
was balm to him to have sympathy, and, better still, 
trust like hers, even from one so lowly. “ Thank you, 
my friend,” he said, “for trying to help me, but you see 
how impossible it is. If you only knew how wretched 
my position is! Still, there is no hope. You are good 
to try, but nobody can help me now.” 

The woman muttered something in her own lan- 
guage, and looked at him severely. “You will break 
her heart,” she muttered in vexation. “ She love you 
— ah, she love you so good 1 ” 

Allison groaned. “Yes, she loves me, but she is 
young; she will forget that when it is all over; but 
she could not forget, could never forgive, if I wounded 
her honor.” 

The woman flashed her eyes at him indignantly. 

“ Ah 1 you would save her ^ — you forget your mother 
— you will kill her to save the girl I ” 

Allison bounded to his feet and paced the room in 
an agony of thought. He walked back and forth, blind 
and deaf to everything present but his own misery, and 
the woman waited for him to return. He threw him- 
self into the chair and leaned toward her again. 

“ For God’s sake, leave me I ” he moaned. “ Y ou wilb 
drive me mad. I can not tell ; I can not cause my 
precious love one moment’s shame — she is so good, so 
true 1 My mother, my noble, self-sacrificing mother ! 
Would to God I had died before this curse ever fell 
upon us! ” 

1 5 


222 


He buried his face in his hands and sat crushed by 
the weight of relentless woe that he could not avert. 
He raised his head and took the woman’s hand gently. 

If they do their worst, go to my mother and tell 
her the truth. Go to my heart’s treasure and tell her 
that my love for her is proven ; then tell her to forget. 
You will take pity on me and do this for me?” 

Omene heard him in a conflict of sympathy and an- 
noyance. 

“ I go first,” she said, “ and tell the judge.” 

Allison clutched her hand he held almost fiercely. 

‘‘ No, for God sake, no ! If .you tell, she would have 
to bear all the blame. She must not suffer, whatever 
else may happen ! ” 

“ Ah, she is a woman ; she will suffer more if you 
are — ” 

“ But telling will do no good,” he interrupted vehe- 
mently, ‘‘ we will only drag her name into the courts 
and avail nothing. We can not prove my innocence.” 

“Won’t they take my word — mine and Allen’s? 
Make Allen tell too.” 

“ But we cannot prove anything even then.” 

“You did not get back in time.” 

“Yes, I did. I had unsaddled my horse and was 
nearly ready for bed when the train whistled. I heard 
them knocking on the depot door before they came to 
mine.” 

The woman clapped her hands excitedly, and Alli- 
son in turn signaled her to be cautious. She leaned 
nearer and whispered triumphantly : 

“ They were dead, cold, stiff, when the train came. 
Didn’t you hear them say so?” 

Again Allison bounded to his feet and struggled with 
a cry for self-preservation, that was almost maddening. 

Captain Barringer sat behind his paper and tried to 
neither see nor hear anything that passed. He pitied 


223 


the young man, so cruelly accused, from the bottom of 
his heart. He believed it impossible that a man, such 
as he knew Allison to be, could be guilty of any deed 
in the least dishonorable, and that he could commit a 
crime so atrocious as the murder at Laurens he believed 
beyond all possibility. 

Again Allison sank into his chair. He had calmed 
himself and he spoke firmly : 

“ Heaven knows I am grateful to you for your sym- 
pathy and for your offer of help, but I can not, I must 
not take it. She must be spared whatever may happen 
to me. Promise me to let the matter rest now ; prom- 
ise me that you will never tell that she met me in the 
cabin.” 

Omene arose to her feet. Without turning her head 
to right or left, she went to the door, and picking up 
her satchels, she glided out of the room and out of the 
house. 

Two days later Allison’s case was tried. Some of 
his friends urged him to have it delayed, but he was 
apathetic and seemed so hopelessly indifferent as to 
when his sentence was passed, that they left him in 
despair. The district attorney and judge, both of whom 
knew and liked Allison, endeavored to persuade his 
lawyer to have the case postponed, and attributed the 
young lawyer’s stout refusal to his ignorance and youth, 
and mentally accused him of criminal indifference to- 
ward his client’s welfare. 

“ Well,” muttered the judge, with a sigh, when he 
saw that the lawyer was obdurate, “it will simply 
amount to your hanging the poor fellow! While 
public opinion is against him, there is very little hope 
for his acquittal.” 

Young Mr. Lee, the lawyer, shrugged his shoulders 
in that lazy way peculiar to him, and drawled : 

“ Well, Judge, if this jury feels disposed to hang him 


224 


upon circumstantial evidence, then we will have to 
take the case to a higher court.” 

Mr. Lee was not an orator, and this fact added to the 
distress of Allison’s friends. He sadly lacked the flow 
of language necessary for swaying an audience ; but if 
he did not have the gift of using his tongue, he had 
the more blessed faculty of holding it. He was excel- 
lent in civil courts, because his understanding of the 
law was unquestionable, but he always refused to take 
criminal cases when it was possible for him to do so, 
and only took this one because of his genuine friend- 
ship for the accused man. 

The court-house was crowded with a motley throng 
of white men and darkies of both sexes. Almost every 
man and woman on Lauren’s plantation had walked 
the eight miles of railroad track for the ghoulish pleas- 
ure of being present at the trial. 

And there in the court-room, the same apartment 
where he had been so care-free and happy as the ac- 
cepted lover of Nellie Barrett, Edward Allison stood 
to answer to the charge of murder. 

The district attorney examined the negroes who had 
testified against him before the grand jury, and they 
told the same story over again, describing Allison’s 
anger and repeating his hotly spoken words, amid a 
prolixity of unnecessary description, but nothing more 
could be learned from them. None of them knew the 
cause of the doctor’s sudden outburst, nor anything 
further of him than that he left the supper-table very 
angry. Sidney Carroll and Vincent Minor had gone 
to Parthenia White’s house, and stood in the doorway 
for a while looking at the dancers, and Minor was over- 
heard to say that he had to make out some bills of 
lading for cotton and seed; and Carroll saying that he 
would go and help him, the two went off together, and 
no one thought of them again until the train arrived. 


225 


Dr. Allison listened attentively at first to what the 
negroes were saying, and after two or three men had 
repeated the same thing in their characteristic long- 
drawn-out manner, his mind wandered, and he sat 
staring at the floor, thinking of the bliss and pain that 
had been his portion since last he was in that room. 
His thoughts lingered about Nellie’s sweet, girlish face 
and her charming womanliness; she was to him his 
materialized ideal of all human goodness and purity. 
At their last interview she told him that her father had 
forbidden her writing to him, but he knew that she had 
reached her destination safely, for she had sent him a 
newspaper with the mention of her arrival marked. 

There was a murmur in the court-room, and Allison 
was aroused from his reverie. He looked up, and his 
blood seemed to freeze in his veins. There upon the 
witness-stand stood Omene Kirrch, the Syrian. 

Allison started to his feet and clutched his attorney 
by the arm. “ For God’s sake,” he whispered, “ stop 
that woman, Lee, — she will kill me ! ” 

Mr. Lee pressed him back in his chair and com- 
manded: “Sit still, Ed, — calm yourself; some one 
may notice your agitation.” 

Allison bowed his head in his hand and groaned. 

Omene Kirrch never once looked at Allison. When 
she took the oath, he lifted his head and riveted his 
eyes upon her dark, sad face. Once or twice, beneath 
his gaze, her eyelids fluttered and she almost turned 
her head toward him ; but she struggled against the 
impulse, and answered the questions put to her with 
composure and cool confidence. She always spoke with 
a strong foreign accent, despite her long residence in 
America, but she had a good command of language 
and seldom hesitated for a word to express her thoughts. 

“Where was Dr. Allison the night of the murder?” 
she repeated slowly in her plaintive, musical voice. 


226 


whose peculiarities could never be described by pen. 
“ At twelve o’clock he came to a cabin on the back 
part of Lilyditch plantation.” 

For an instant Allison covered his face with his 
hands in agony of fear ; but the fascination that the 
awful revelation she was about to make had for him 
made him lift his head and gaze at her again. Young 
Lee moved his chair even nearer, and laid his hand 
with apparent carelessness upon his client’s knee. 

“ What was Dr. Allison doing at Lilyditch on De- 
cember 27th at twelve o’clock?” asked the District 
Attorney, and Allison shuddered. 

“ He was sent for to see a woman,” the Syrian an- 
swered simply. 

“ How do you know this ? ” 

I was in the house with her.” 

“ What were you doing there ? ” was the next ques- 
tion. 

“ I was staying all night. I often sleep there when 
I can’t get back where I board.” 

“ Ah ! Where is the woman now who sent for the 
doctor ? Why did she not come, too, to testify in the 
prisoner’s favor ? ” 

She went away next day to New Orleans.” 

“ Hump ! How was she able to go New Orleans next 
day if she was sick enough to send ten miles for a 
physician at midnight ? ” 

“She was able to walk,” Omene said, with a shrug of 
her shoulders. 

“ Yet you say Dr. Allison was sent for and gave her 
medicine at midnight ? ” 

Dr. Allison sat like one in a trance, and listened to 
the woman in helpless amazement. 

“Yes, he came and gave her medicine.” 

“How long did he stay with her ? ” 

“ Three and a half hours.” 


227 


“ How do you know ? ” 

The Syrian drew a little silver watch from her bosom 
and held it up. 

“ What was the matter with the woman ? ” 

Allison leaned forward eagerly to hear what she would 
say. For the first time she turned her head and looked 
at him, a plaintive little smile hovering for an instant 
about her thin lips. 

“ She sick here,” she answered, pressing her hand to 
her bosom. “ She got — how you call that ? — sick heart; 
pain all the time. She worse that night.” 

“ Is the sick woman a negro ? ” 

Allison would have bounded to his feet at the ques- 
tion had not Lee’s restraining hand detained him. 

“ No,” answered Omene, curtly. 

“ Ah, a peddler like you ? ” 

Omene shrugged her shoulders and made a little 
grimace of contempt, followed by a gurgling laugh that 
was almost gay. 

“Oh, no,” she said. “ You don’t find peddlers like 
Miss Mene every day. She sell something sometime, 
but — ” She laughed again in child-like amusement. 

“ What was the woman’s name ? ” 

Allison shrank as though he expected a blow. “ My 
God, stop her ! ” Cold perspiration burst upon his 
brow, and his lips blanched whiter still. 

Omene saw him, hut never wavered : 

“ Cornelia Barretti,” she said, pronouncing the old 
Roman name and the modern one with a soft, liquid 
accent that showed them natives of a foreign land. 
Allison looked at Mr. Barrett, sitting across the room 
near Jules Durieux, and listening intently to the evi- 
dence, and he almost shouted in relief. 

“ How did she go to New Orleans?” 

“ By boat.” 

“ How did she go to the boat? ” 


228 


“I don’t know. I left the cabin to do my work 
before she went to the boat.” 

“ How do you know, then, that she went to New 
Orleans ? ” 

Omene looked at her interlocutor with withering 
surprise. 

“ She said she was going, and I heard she was gone, 
and I have not seen her since. Han ! ” she concluded, 
with a sniff. 

The District Attorney cross-questioned her untiring- 
ly, but her answers were straight and simple, and 
always the same thing. He sat down and mopped the 
perspiration from his brow. He had done his duly, 
and no one could accuse him of not having put forth 
every effort to convict the prisoner. At heart he 
knew of no man whom he liked more cordially than 
he did Edward Allison — no one whom he would do 
more for if it lay in his power. 

When Dr. Allison was questioned his voice rang out 
without a tremor, “ I am not guilty.” 

He said that every word the woman had uttered was 
true. He had been sent for to see a woman on Lily- 
ditch plantation ; that he had gone, and he had given 
her medicine. He stayed with her three and a half 
hours, or thereabout, and then rode home rather slow- 
ly, owing to the mud having frozen and become pain- 
ful to his horse’s feet. He must have reached Lauren’s 
about half-past five. It was dark everywhere, except 
in Parthenia’s house, where the negroes were still 
dancing. He unsaddled his horse himself, and 
went to his room to prepare for bed, and had just 
gotten into bed when some one knocked on the door 
and called him. He told this standing before that 
crowd of curious, suspicious people, with head erect 
and his eyes calmly watching the Judges’ faces, and 
then he sat down and refused to speak again. 


229 


Mr, Lee arose to his feet when Allison sat down, and 
addressed the jury. The twelve were all white men, 
and he spoke to them in his habitual deliberate man- 
ner. He asked them to question Edward Allison’s 
conduct from the time he had come to Jive in the 
parish up to the present moment. He asked them if 
they would convict a man who had always borne him- 
self as a gentleman and as a man of honor, upon cir- 
cumstantial evidence, or upon the report of negroes 
who had seen him display irritability upon an occasion 
when none knew the cause of his anger. He asked all 
present who knew the disposition of the man who 
caused his vexation, to reflect upon the difierence in 
the two men. He asked them upon what grounds a 
man who had never been known to show cowardice or 
malice would be likely to shoot another in the back 
and through a window at midnight? Not robbery, 
for no one knew better than the accused the amount 
of money in the safe, and moreover, the accused knew 
the safe combination, for it was he who opened the 
doors for the new man who was sent by the railway 
company to take charge of the office. 

The counsel for the defense then urged a point which 
the district attorney had failed to touch upon. In the 
glass of the bay window had been found holes in two 
of the panes, and these proved conclusively that two 
pistols were fired simultaneously. These two holes 
were too far apart for it to be possible for one man to 
have made them at the same instant, and the fact that 
the bullets had entered both of the dead men from the 
back indicated that they had each received the death- 
wound before either could turn about in alarm. If one 
person had discharged both shots, he could have had 
no possible motive for changing his position from one 
side of the window to the other, when either aperture 
gave him complete range of the entire room. Only 


230 


two balls were found in the post mortem examination ; 
one of these was of .38 calibre and the other was of .44. 

Mr. Lee grew almost eloquent as he warmed with 
the hope of proving beyond all peradventure that 
Edward Allison was an innocent man. 

The two shots that were fired, he asserted, were dis- 
charged by two men at the same moment, resulting in 
Mr. Carroll’s instant death and in Mr. Minor receiving 
the death-wound which did not cause him to fall until 
he reached the center of his own apartment, whither 
he had gone for a weapon to use in self-defense. He 
believed that the murder was committed for the pur- 
pose of robbery, just as was the case in the many crimes 
committed in Mississippi within the past few months. 
That robbery was not effected in this instance was due 
to Mr. Minor having lived until he reached the other 
apartment, and the robbers, supposing him to be con- 
cealed, prepared to defend himself, dared not attempt 
to enter the building. 

As for arresting Dr. Allison in the first place, he 
indignantly asserted that it was preposterous. Dr. Al- 
lison’s character was too well known to require any re- 
marks from him upon it, he said, and that in itself 
should serve to clear him of all suspicion, even without 
the testimony of the woman just heard in his favor, 
accounting for every moment of his time from when 
he sat at supper with his two friends to the moment 
when the train arrived. He ate supper at ten o’clock, 
according to the statement of the colored witnesses, 
and left the room, angry, perhaps; just outside he met 
the colored boy who had come to take him to the house 
where the woman who wanted him was. The roads 
were muddy and beginning to freeze and the Doctor 
could not possibly ride the distance of ten miles in less 
than two hours. He reached the woman’s side and 
stayed with her until half past three o’clock, returning 


231 


to the station, reaching there at half past five. He had 
just gotten into his bed more nearly frozen than other- 
wise, when the train came, followed by the startling 
knock upon his door and the appalling information 
that Mr. Carroll was dead. The railway conductor, the 
fireman, the engineer, and brakeman had testified that 
the two men were cold and rigid in death, and the 
temperature was at freezing point in the office when 
they were found. The fire in the stove was burnt out 
to the last spark. The lamp was still burning with a 
faint blue flame, and the odor from it was strong, as of 
a lamp left burning all night. 

Friends crowded about Dr. Allison and his successful 
lawyer when Allison was pronounced a free man, and 
congratulations were showered upon them both, but 
still — . Why had Dr. Allison refused so positively to 
account for his whereabouts the night of the murder, 
until after the peddler had given in her testimony ? 

A short time later Allison went on a visit to his 
mother at the old home, and remained there several 
weeks. When he came back, he took up his work at 
Lauren’s and was soon on pleasant terms of friendship 
with his new associates. The new manager and depot 
agent liked him immensely, but still — . 


CHAPTER XXIIL 


The wind was raging like a maniac, and the humid 
cold seemed to penetrate the marrow of her bones! 
Ella struggled through the icy mud, dreading every 
minute that the next would find her horse bogged to 
its knees, or, escaping this, that they would be rolling 
together in the slush, unable to regain a footing in the 
blackness of the night. Her eyes were utterly useless 
to her, and she could not even see her horse’s head nor 
her hand held up before her. She trusted to the faith- 
ful little animal’s instincts, and coaxed her forward 
with endearing terms to do her best for the sake of 
both. Poor little Betty was not cold, for her struggle 
with the mud kept every drop of blood and every 
muscle in her body in motion ; but the negro girl was 
suffering accutely with the pain of cold in her aching 
hands and feet and fatigue throughout her weary limbs. 
She knew that she could not be far from home now — 
or at least ought not to be; but now and then she 
wondered, with a sickening fear, if it were possible 
that Betty had lost her way. The girl began to feel a 
numbness stealing over her that was fast driving out 
fear, when all at once the mare gave a little cry of 
delight that roused her from her lethargic indifference 
with a laugh for joy, and at that moment a flood of 
light streamed through an open cabin door. The horse 
whinnied again, and dogs bounded out to meet her, 
barking a happy welcome, and the girl realized that 
she was at home. 

Her grandmother came to her assistance, and helping 
her from the horse, led the poor worn beast to the little 
stable, where she fed her, taking ofi the saddle and 
232 


233 


giving her the freedom she so well deserved, while Ella 
hastened into the cabin and crouched down by the fire. 

As she sank upon the hearth her little boy tottered 
toward her in his newly learned walk, expecting her to 
laugh and pet him in her habitual rapturous way ; but 
the girl stared into the fire, scarcely conscious that he 
was near. She shivered, and received his kisses with- 
out noticing his happy prattle till he stumbled over 
her cloak, that had fallen from her, and cried piteously, 
feeling wounded by her neglect. She caught him in 
her arms then, and kissed him passionately, cooing to 
him ; and having soothed him, she caressed his chubby 
little hand that he held up to her face, while he nursed 
himself to sleep. 

Old Harmony took the boy from Ella and put him 
in bed. 

“Come on, honey, an’ git yo’ supper. Ain’t you 
mighty tired ? ” 

“ Grandma, I’m most tired to death,” the girl said, 
her large eyes staring plaintively, “ and it seems like 1 
never will git warm no mo’. La, grandma,” she went 
on, as she took the plate the old darkey brought her, 
“ what made you fix all this stuff for me. I don’t 
believe I could eat anything to save my life — I just 
wanted some good hot coffee, or something, to warm 
me up.” 

“ Now, honey, you try to eat,” the old woman coaxed, 
“ 1 got yo’ gran ’pa to go kill you dat pattige jest ’cause 
I knowed you didn’t have no appetite.” 

The girl forced some of the partridge into her mouth 
and swallowed it with an effort, and the old woman 
watched her with distress plainly marked upon her 
patient yellow face. 

Ella drank the coffee greedily, and Harmony, disap- 
pointed, took the things away. When she returned 
the girl was coughing violently, and she laid her hand 
caressingly upon her shoulder. 


234 


“ Honey, you go to bed right dis minit ! Yo’ cough 
is a heap wuss, an’ you looks plumb done up.” 

“ Lawd, grandma, I wish I could, but my work ain’t 
done yet ! ” the girl answered, sadly grave. “ I wish I 
could go to bed. I got to go on, though, jes’ as soon as 
I can. He expectin’ me ev’ry minit now. I jes’ stopped 
by to ’tend to the baby, so the little fellow could git to 
sleep in peace an’ not bother you.” 

“ You jes’ can’t go no further, child,” Harmony as- 
serted emphatically, “you ’most sick as it is. You 
know he wouldn’t have you go on out there for de 
work ef he knowed how tired you wus.” 

The girl shook her head wearily. 

“Yes he would, grandma. You don’t know how 
he’s changed. He’s cross most all the time, an’ God 
knows, grandma, I tries to please him ! ” 

She looked up pathetically through the tears that 
crowded into her eyes. She brushed them away reso- 
lutely the next moment as the harsh little clock on the 
mantle-piece struck ten. 

“ Goodness,” she cried, “ I didn’t have no idee it was 
so late ! ” 

She got up stiffly and put on her cloak. Harmony 
went with her to the stable. Betty had finished her 
supper and was dozing in her stall. Ella had her sad- 
dled and led her out to the edge of the gallery where 
she could mount, and soon they started out on the 
lonely road in the darkness. The ground had com- 
menced to freeze at sunset and since she had left the 
road an hour or two before, it had hardened so percep- 
tibly that the ice cut the horse’s feet like iron, as she 
slipped through the crusts to the softer mud below. 

Ella turned and laboriously retraced her way. She 
put Betty again in the stable, and went into the house 
for a lantern. 

Harmony looked up as she came in and asked the 
question with genuine distress in every tone : 


235 


Oh, child, what made you turn back ? ” 

“ I know it’s bad luck,” the girl answered, dully, 
“but I couldn’t help it, grandma; I just couldn’t kill 
the po’ li’F boss, anyway.” 

She started again, and with the aid of a candle burn- 
ing dimly in the lantern, she could pick her way along 
the ditch bank where the ground was hard. 

“Maybe it’s best,” she said to herself. “ I won’t git 
so cold walkin’.” 

She drew her shawl closer about her ears, and pushed 
forward bravely. 

In a small single cabin, almost in the centre of En- 
glehart, Burrill Coleman sat all alone. The one room 
of the house and the shed room at the back were as 
comfortably furnished and as neat as negro homes are 
usually, which after all is saying very little, although 
Coleman lived by himself and did all the housework 
needed in his small establishment. 

Tonight he got up often and went to the door, where 
he peered into the darkness, listening intently, only to 
return again and drop into his chair before the fire. 
He could not sit still and again went to the door and 
looked out impatiently, but closed it in the face of the 
keen wind, and returned to his chair once more. He 
pulled out his watch and looked at its slowly moving 
hands with an oath. 

Just as he snapped its case and was returning it to 
his pocket, a soft tap sounded without ; he jumped up 
and unbolted the door, throwing it wide open, and 
Ella Green, almost fainting with fatigue and numb 
with cold, staggered in. 

“ At last ! My Lawd, Ella,” he cried peevishly, “ what 
on earth makes you so late ? I was scared somethin’ 
had happened to you.” 

“ I couldn’t make it no sooner,” the girl answered 


236 


meekly, going to the fire and crouching down before it. 

I most thought I couldn’t make it nohow.” 

Humph, you gittin’ mighty delicate all of a sud- 
den ! ” Coleman muttered contemptuously, sitting 
down in the chair he had quitted and glowering at the 
girl. 

As Ella began to get warm her muscles twitched 
so nervously she could not control herself. 

“ What’s the matter with you, Ella ? ” Burrill asked 
testily. “ I never seen you carry on so over a little 
cold before.” 

The girl lifted her wide black eyes and looked at 
him with a pathos in their depths that he turned 
from. 

“ I don’t know,” she said, her teeth chattering and 
her shoulders twitching. “ I most believe I’m sick.” 

“Well, quit your foolishness and tell me what you 
done. Did you get it ? ” 

Without answering, the girl reached down as well 
as she could with her jerking hands and drew a pack- 
age from her stocking. 

“Is it all right?” demanded the man, taking it 
from her. 

“ Yes, the money is, but the men — ” 

“ the men ! ” muttered Coleman between his 

teeth. 

“Jim says if somethin’ ain’t done pretty quick he’s 
scared Simon’s goin’ to talk too much.” 

“ Did you see Simon ? ” 

“ No, 1 didn’t.” 

“ your soul ! ” he cried, furiously. “ What in 

the name of God did I send you down there for?” 

The girl crouched lower, mutely. 

“Can’t you speak?” He grabbed her shoulders 
roughly. “Do you think I can stand such foolin’? 
Why didn’t you mind me, hah?” He shook her frail 


237 


body violently, and slapped her on each side of her 
head, demanding, “ Answer me, I say?” 

The girl j-at with hot, dry eyes, her hands lying 
listless in her lap. The man glared at her vindictively. 
At last, she said, sadly : 

“ Burrill, when I believed you loved me I was willin' 
to do anything, to risk anything, to do what you 
wanted ; but it’s all changed now.” A hard, dry sob 
shook her frail form. ‘’You ain’t loved me since 
Christmas — since the night of Lissy’s wedding.” Her 
livid lips quivered, and she looked into his temper- 
distorted face. “ Burrill ! Burrill ! Is any woman come 
between us ? Burrill, tell me, is you tired of me and 
wants somebody else ? ” 

The man turned his head and stared into the fire. 
“ If you can’t do nothin’ better than to sit there askin’ 
fool questions,” he said, harshly, “you jest as well go 
on back home. I ain’t goin’ to talk about nothin’ else 
till you tell me what I want to know. Why didn’t 
you go to see Simon ? ” 

“ Darlin’, because I didn’t dare ; they was watchin’ 
me.” The miserable girl moved closer, and laid her 
hand carressingly on his leg. “ Jim says they’ve found 
out that a bright yellow girl was helpin’ them, and 
doin’ all the writin’ for ’em, and they’ve got a descrip- 
tion of me. He says I’ve got to be mighty particular 
how I shows myself around there; and I come near 
bein’ caught, too.” 

“How did Jim find out so much?” he asked sud- 
denly, ignoring her intimation of danger that menaced 
her. 

“ It’s Jim’s business to find out things.” 

“ Why don’t Jim skip ? ” 

“’Cause he’s watched too close. I seen him first 
thing when I got up the hill. I crossed the river in 
old man Hens’ skiff' like you told me, and when 1 got 
1 6 


238 


up the hill I met Jim, and I just said, ‘ Howdy, Jim ? ’ 
just so, without thinkin’, and he just stared at me and 
give me the sign, ‘ Watched.’ So I said, ‘Excuse me, 
sir; I thought you was my cousin Jim,’ and after that 
it took me nearly half the day to git to talk to him. 
While I was walkin’ about town, tryin’ to git to see 
some of the others, a sassy-lookin’ white man came up 
to me and tried to git into a conversation. He kept 
after me to come and git some dinner, and I was 
hungry a little, so I went. He made out he was 
drunk, and kept writin’ notes to me, and I come near 
givin’ myself away. I ’most read the first before I 
thought; then I told him I couldn’t read ; but he kept 
on askin’ me to write my name, so he’d recollect it, 
and then I laughed and made out I was tickled, and 
wrote it down with my left hand, just in printin’. I 
kept my knife in my left hand while I was eatin’, 
’cause I can do it mighty near as easy anyhow. Then, 
when there wasn’t no excuse for him to keep me no 
longer, an’ I was startin’ off’ he said, ‘ Ah, gal, you’s a 
cute one,’ an’ it ’most scared me to death. He made 
out he was goin’, but I saw him following me after 
that.” 

Coleman sat with his head bowed in his hands, 
buried in deep thought. Ella watched him a long 
time, then crawled on her knees to his side and laid 
her pale cheek against his shoulder. 

“ Burrill,” she coaxed, gently, “ won’t you tell me 
now? Won’t you say if there’s anybody you love 
more than me ? ” 

The man looked down into her unhappy, pleading 
face, so pale, so drawn with mental and physical pain, 
and without a word stooped and kissed her dry lips 
gently. The girl’s heart bounded with joy. 

“Oh, Burrill!” she cried, throwing her arms about 
his neck and clinging to him with all the strength that 


239 


was left. “ You are so good ! Just say once more you 
love me, darlin’ — just say so once more.” 

The man reached his arms about her and drew her 
upon his knees, kissing her with the same savage 
strength of passion that had controlled him when he 
struck her such a short time before. 

“Darlin’,” he said, hugging her almost crushingly; 
“ I do love you, my pretty, pretty darlin’. I love you 
more than you got any idea, God knows I do. They 
ain’t no other woman in this world as sweet as you ; 
but, honey, you don’t know how nearly distracted I 
am. I’ve got so much on my mind I don’t hardly 
know what I’m doin’ half the time.” He kissed her 
again and again, and she nestled down in his arms like 
a happy child. He laid his cheek to hers, and then 
drew away and laid his hand on her brow, watching 
her critically. 

“ Honey,” he said, gently, “ what makes your face so 
hot? You most feel like you got fever.” 

Ella closed her tired eyes. “I don’t know what’s the 
matter with me, Burrill, but I feel like my head will 
burst.” 

“ Poor little honey-child,” he said, tenderly, “ she’s 
so tired she don’t know what to do.” 

In spite of her aching head ai d tired body, Ella 
laughed blissfully and kissed her lover’s powerful neck 
and strong chin again and again, with the potent love 
that makes self-sacrifice a heavenly balm to woman, in 
whatever walk of life fate may lead her footsteps. 

While Burrill Coleman and Ella were talking in the 
isolated cabin on Englehart, Dr. Allison was sleeping 
once again in his shabby little room at Lauren’s Sta- 
tion. When he awoke the next morning, the first 
morning after he was proclaimed a free man once more, 
his first thought was of his mother and the j<>y it would 
would be to go to her and feel the touch of her gentle 


240 


hand upon his own ; to experience again the strength 
of the bond of sympathy that existed between them. 
He longed to see her and to dispel the torturing fears 
that must have beset her since the news of his arrest 
reached her. To assure her that he was free and that he- 
was innocent, was now his dearest wish. Perhaps it 
would ease his heart-ache, too, if he would confess to his 
mother his love for Nellie, and explain everything to 
her. What a balm to his wounded, sensitive soul it 
would be to go to this rock of safety, his mother’s love, 
and unburden his soul. No one understood him as 
she did, not even his idol, his betrothed; and no one 
was better prepared to advise him and to soothe his 
perturbed spirits. 

He ate his breakfast indifferently and w’as anxious 
to set about his packing, but it seemed whenever he 
started back toward his room to begin the pleasant task, 
another darkey would come to tell him “howdy” and 
rejoice with him over his vindication from the terrible 
crime he was called to answer to. The news of the 
termination of the trial had been carried far and wide 
by the crowds who thronged to the courthouse the day 
before, and the negroes flocked to Lauren’s to further 
gratify their curiosity. Those who did not know him 
well enough to talk to him or congratulate him them- 
selves, were content to simply look upon him and hear 
whatever he had to say. 

The young man was so happy over the renewal of 
his freedom, that during his imprisonment seemed so 
hopelessly lost, he had not the heart to deny the 
darkies the pleasure of staring at him. The crushing 
burden of shame and anxiety lifted from him, together 
with the prospect of a visit home, left him bouyant and 
light hearted as a school boy, and he was glad to con- 
tribute to any one’s pleasure who came in his way. 

It was within two hours of train time, and Allison 


241 


knew if he did not desert his crowd of admiring spec- 
tators and prepare for his journey he would not get 
away that day. He finally reached his room in soli- 
tude and was stooping over his satchel, with a folded 
shirt in his hand, when some one knocked for admit- 
tance. 

“ Come in,” he called, proceeding with his packing. 
He expected to hear the same words of congratulation 
that he had listened to a hundred times since yester- 
day, and did not lift his head. It was Burrill Coleman 
who entered, and he stood staring at Allison in dismay. 

“ Good God, Doctor, you ain’t goin’ away ! ” 

Allison looked up and was startled by Coleman’s 
haggard face. The negro told bis errand briefly : 
Ella was sick, desperately sick, and unless Dr. Allison 
could come to her without delay, he despaired of her 
life. 

Dr. Allison stood for a moment and struggled with 
himself. Burrill Coleman watched him anxiously and 
recognized the conflict going on within the young phy- 
sician’s bosom with sinking heart. 

Doctor, for God’s sake don’t go ! ” he pleaded. 
“ Come and see her, and cure her. Doctor, or I ieel like 
I’ll go crazy. I’d give up anything on this earth 
rather than her. Doctor, if you is ever loved a woman, 
come and do your best to save her for me.” 

Allison’s emotions almost suflbcated him. Had the 
man not appealed to his love, he could have denied 
him better. Burrill stood before him, his lips gray 
and his eyes sunk deep with sufiering. He thought 
of Nellie, and wondered if he could go on living if she 
were dead. He stifled his disappointment, and closing 
the half-packed valise, pushed it under the bed with 
his foot. He heard Burrill’s deep sigh of relief. 

The day before, as soon as he left the court room, 
Dr. Allison sent the following message to his mother : 


242 


“ I am well and happy. I will leave tomorrow to 
visit you.” 

Today he went into the office and threw himself 
in a chair beside the instrument. As soon as his call 
was answered, he opened the key and sent : 

“ Detained by very sick patient. Will come as soon 
as possible.” 

He closed the key, and went with Burrill Coleman 
to the bedside of the sick girl. 

He no sooner entered the little cabin where she lay, 
than he saw how slender was the thread that held her 
to this life. Pneumonia in its worst form had gained 
such odds in the battle, that there was almost no hope 
tor her recovery from the first. Her grandmother had 
been sent for at daybreak, and as soon as the old woman 
could get her shawl and bonnet, she came. Before she 
left home, she gained the Syrian woman’s promise to 
stay with the baby until she could return; and when 
Aunt Harmony entered, Burrill hurried to Lauren’s 
for the doctor, in whom he had such unbounded con- 
fidence. He dared not send for Dr. Allison for fear his 
messenger might fail to persuade the young man how 
urgent was his exigency, and went himself. 

The girl lay with her black eyes glowing through her 
pallid face like dying coals. She had thrown the 
blankets from her shoulders and torn her dress from 
her burning chest in her efforts to gain her breath more 
freely. As Dr. Allison sat down b side her and softly 
drew the covers close to her chin, she recognized him 
and smiled confiding gratitude for his coming. She 
moved her head restlessly back and forth. 

“ Who is in here? ” she asked. 

“Your grandmother and two or three others, beside 
your husband.” 

When he said the last name, he saw her smile with 
pleasure. Again she moved her head and tossed her 
arms in an effort for breath. 


243 


“ Doctor, I got pneumonia, ain’t I ? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“Doctor,” she began again, and faltered, “will I talk 
out of my head ? ” 

“No, I guess not; you are feeling better now,” he 
said cheerfully. 

“ People don’t never believe what anybody says when 
they talks out of their head, do they?” 

“Why no. No one is responsible for what she says 
when she is feverish.” 

Ella was silent for awhile, and patiently swallowed 
what Allison held to her lips. She turned her burning 
eyes upon him again as he resumed his seat, and whis- 
pered : 

“ Doctor, if I talk out of my head, can’t you give me 
something to make me stop ? I tell you — ” she inter- 
rupted herself, “ if I talk too much foolishness, you 
make everybody go out of the house but Burrill, won’t 
you ? Burrill will take care of me,” she said, lingering 
over the thought. “ Burrill loves me — loves me so 
much ! ” 

Dr. Allison applied his art unstintindy and stayed 
with the sick girl night and day, only leaving her 
to take his meals with Durieux and Wheeler, or to 
throw himself on the former’s bed occasionally to 
snatch an hour’s sleep. 

Old Harmony and Burrill were with her constantly, 
too, and did all they could, all that love could suggest, 
but there was little to be done. 

The end was not long in coming. 


CHAPTER XXIV. 


As soon as news of Dr. Allison’s arrest reached Mr. 
Barrett’s ears, he hastened to the telegraph office and 
sent this message flashing over the wires to his brother- 
in-law in New Orleans: 

“ Don’t let Nellie read newspapers. Will explain by 
letter.” 

The letter followed upon the heels of the dispatch, 
and Nellie, caring but little for newspapers at any 
time, was unconsciously guarded from them as she 
would have been from something rabid; and although 
they contained much space devoted to the murder of 
the two young men, and the subsequent arrest and 
trial of Dr. Allison, she remained in total ignorance of 
everything connected with the tragedy. 

She was pale and subdued when she arrived at her 
aunt’s handsome residence, and looked to the letters 
from her parents as the only thing to blunt the pain 
of homesickness. Her mother and father wrote to her 
daily, bright letters, that contained only news of what 
passed in the village or at home. These she read and 
re-read whenever she could steal k, moment off to her- 
self. 

She was forced to mingle in vivacious society, and 
having several girl and young men cousins, she had 
very few moments, and but little, if any, solitude, for 
brooding over her sorrows. 

Her aunt was a diplomat, such as silently move 
kings and sway empires. She was informed why 
Nellie was sent to her before the young lady arrived, 
and being a woman of the world, and possessed of no 
patience for undesirable matrimonial alliances or mar- 
244 


245 


generally, except under most favorable condi- 
tions, she mapped out her campaign adroitly and 
pushed her plans smoothly, unsuspected by the victim 
of her conspiracies. 

To begin with, she asserted that Nellie should have 
her voice further cultivated, while in the city, by the 
noted professor who w^as instructing her own girls ; 
then she sent the bevy, of whom Nellie was the only 
listless member, to regular exercises in physical cul- 
ture. The evenings were taken up with parties, 
theaters, operas, and lectures ; and the between-times 
were spent in luncheons, teas,, calls, and shopping. 
So what wonder that Nellie’s bright color returned 
and her eyes sparkled with enjoyment. 

Nor was this all. Nellie’s girl cousins had cousins 
who were not her cousins, and among these were 
young men, and one young man in particular; and 
this gentleman made love to her so persistently that 
every minute of Nellie’s time not consumed by her 
aunt’s devices was taken up in thwarting his ardent 
designs upon her affections. Had he been the only 
lover, she still might have had a moment here or there 
for her old heartache, but others, less bold and impor- 
tunate, came, were baffled, and passed on. 

The gay city’s whirl was not congenial to Nellie. 
It fascinated and awed her, but often her little country- 
bred heart longed to fly from the glare, the splendor, 
the hollowmess, and the restlessness of it all, and return 
to the truer, freer life and the love that she knew 
awaited her so fervently at home. 

At last the prescribed limits of her exile were over, 
and she was at liberty to return. The carnival, with 
its rollicking, glittering mysticisms was over; the great 
crush balls had been attended, and the curtain had 
dropped upon Mirth and Feastings to arise upon Pen- 
itence and Prayer. The crowds that had swarmed to 


246 


the city from everywhere had dissolved like the 
pageants of the night, and quiet figures glided by on 
missions to the ever-open churches. 

When the time for her return home drew near, 
Nellie could scarcely veil her delight. It required all 
her tact and acting to show her appreciation of the 
kindness lavished upon her, and at the same time con- 
ceal her joy at the prospect of going home, and the 
hope that perchance she might meet her lover soon. 
She begrudged the day or two longer that the return 
by boat would entail, and wrote, asking her father to 
come for her, that she might make the trip quicker by 
rail. 

Mr. Barrett readily complied with her request. 
There were reasons of his own why he wished to see 
her alone before she reached Sigma. He met her, 
radiant with returned health and the joy of seeing 
him again, and in his soul he congratulated his wife’s 
judgment in sending her away, and offered a fervent 
prayer of mingled thnnksgiving and hope. 

The passage by rail was rapid and unimportant, and 
it was not until they they had left the train and taken 
the boat tor Lilyditch landing that Mr. Barrett had the 
opportunity of speaking to Nellie in privacy. They 
made close connection with the little mail packet at 
Vicksburg, and Nellie went to her state-room to lay 
aside her hat and bathe the cinders from her face. Her 
father soon followed her to her room, and together they 
sat down in the tiny apartment. 

It was a difficult task that Mr. Barrett had appointed 
for himself, and he scarcely knew how best to begin. 
Her happy face falsely reassured him to some extent, 
and he placed his faith in her forgetfulness, upon the 
rounded beauty of her rosy cheeks, and the brightness 
in her eyes. That his child had ever really cared for 
such a man as Dr. Allison, Mr. Barrett could not bring 


247 


himself to believe. At the thought that she had even 
considered herself in love with him Mr. Barrett's tem- 
per became irritated, and he resolved to show her fully, 
before any other influence could be brought to bear, 
how greatly she had deceived herself. 

With this resolve he began, and told the girl all that 
had transpired during her absence, keeping back not a 
single detail. He spoke plainly, dwelling first upon 
the fact that Dr. Allison was with the two men, Vin- 
cent Minor and Sidney Carroll, at a negro wedding, 
just before the murder was committed. Mr. Barrett 
watched his daughter narrowly while he talked, and 
he saw her face flush crimson. She kept her eyes cast 
down, and twisted the cluster of little friendship rings 
back and forth on her finger nervously. 

Mr. Barrett told, with biting sarcasm, of the three 
white men participating in the negro festivities, and 
proceeded in his account of the tragedy with uncon- 
scious cruelty. “ Then,” he said, “ after Dr. Allison left 
his most worthy companions, swearing at one of them 
in a towering rage, he went no one knows where, as 
he refused to account for his actions during the hours 
that intervened between his leaving the negro ball and 
the time when the train arrived.” 

“ What ! ” Nellie gasped, “ he refused to tell where he 
was ? ” 

“Yes; he refused most positively to say where he 
spent that time,” Mr. Barrett went on, totally mistak- 
ing the expression of dismay in Nellie’s face for one of 
aversion that he would have given almost anything to 
know was there. 

“ Dr. Allison must have had serious reasons, my 
child,” he said, “for withholding this information, 
when he was so well aware of the consequences it 
would entail. Public opinion was not slow in turning 
against him when it became known that Allison could 


248 


not — or would not — account for his time the night of 
the murder; even those who had faith in his honor 
before, questioned the motives which prompted him to 
maintain his stubborn silence.” 

Nellie Barrett’s lips were pale and drawn, and the 
misery in her eyes made her father’s heart sink. She 
covered her face with her hands and groaned. 

“ Nellie, my darling, my child, do not take this man’s 
sins so terribly to heart.” 

“ Sins ! ” the girl cried, raising her head, with eyes 
flashing. “Father — ” She broke off suddenly, and 
burying her face in her hands again, she moaned, “Oh, 
my God, if I only dared ! ” 

Her words were so low and so filled with suffering 
that they were inaudible. Mr. Barrett put his arms 
around her and drew her face close to his. 

“ Come, my darling,” he pleaded tenderly, “ forget 
this man. He merited sympathy, beyond doubt, when 
he was under the charge of murder, but he is a free 
man now and fully capable of taking care of himself. 
You must see, too, my dear, with gratitude, my far- 
sighted wisdom in withdrawing you from his influence. 
If vou had been allowed to engage yourself to him, 
this affair would now necessitate your severing that 
relation, and I rejoice that you are spared from a duty 
so unpleasant. I am sincerely glad, for his sake, that 
Dr. Allison has been acquitted. His acquittal is hon- 
orable, but still — ” 

The girl’s face was turned from her father’s scrutiny 
as he spoke, and he could not read the dumb misery 
that was too powerful to find relief in tears. Her eyes 
were bright and dry, and as Mr. Barrett held her still 
form against his breast, he little dreamed that what he 
flattered himself into believing was a revulsion of feel- 
ing, that would ultimately conquer her imagined love, 
was in reality the terrible calm that preceded the on- 
coming of a storm of grief. This revulsion he gladly 


249 


thought had come, was a condition he had looked for- 
ward to with so much hope and eagerness that it is no 
wonder he was blinded to what he might have read in 
her face had he been an unbiased observer. 

Nellie was stunned. As her father went on talking 
to her in his etiort to make her realize how fortunate 
she was in her narrow escape from having her future 
linked with the suspected man, she heard his voice 
dimly, without understanding what his words implied. 
She was thinking of nothing, seeing nothing, but the 
man she loved in his hour of anguish ; seeing him 
suflering, humiliated, and for her sake willing to bear 
the penalty, even to the sentence of a death too igno- 
minious to be named, — all rather than that she should 
be doubted or her actions questioned. As she sat there 
with her listless head upon her father’s shoulder, 
indistinctly hearing his well-rounded sentences as 
though they came to her through the vistas of a far- 
away dream, there was a rap upon the state-room door 
that brought her with cruel suddenness to a realization 
of her outer life. Her father went to the door and 
opened it. 

“ We will reach Lilyditch in a few minutes, sir,” she 
heard the porter saying. “ Any packages to be taken 
off.” 

Nellie arose to her feet and stood staring before her. 
Her father came and kissed her tenderly. “ Your 
mother and the children will be at the landing waiting 
for you, dear, — won’t you try to smile for their sake?” 

The girl nodded assent with heavy blankness, and 
mechanically put her hat on and tied the thick travel- 
ing veil closely over her white face. 

The boat had whistled and was putting down the 
stage-plank when Mr. Barrett and Nellie reached the 
deck, and it was but a few minutes before the children 
were hugging and kissing her, struggling with each 
other as to which would squeeze her the hardest. 


CHAPTER XXV. 


When Durieux saw Nellie for the first time after her 
long absence in New Orleans, he was struck with the 
change that had come upon her. He had watched her 
growing pale and languid before she went away, and 
saw how her merry care-free spirit was subdued beneath 
the weight of thwarted hopes put so sternly upon her, 
but he was not prepared for the look of intense sorrow 
— of despair — that now was settled in her heaven-blue 
eyes and maturing her fair face from all its girlish 
sparkle. His heart ached for her as he saw her strive 
to throw off the shroud that clouded her life and ap- 
pear as she used to be. Her patience distressed him, 
and he wished that she would break into a torrent of 
petulance or tears, if only to release herself from the 
monotony of endurance. 

Durieux summoned all the gaiety and light chatter 
he could command in an effort to rouse her to interest 
in what was going on about her, but he saw that the 
pleasure she took in his wit was so transient that it 
flitted almost before his words passed into nothingness. 
He rode with her on horseback as he had done so often 
in the old days, but she complained of fatigue and 
seemed reluctant to leave her rocking chair. Then one 
afternoon he bronght his buggy and asked her to drive. 
She went for her hat listlessly and took her place by 
his side without interest and without opposition. 

It was delightful Spring once more, with the sun- 
shine warm and bright, and the whole world sweet 
with tender verdure. The plump wild violets peeped 
their delicate blue heads over the closely lying leaves 
along the bayou sides and ditch banks, and the peach 
250 


251 


and plum trees grouped about the cabins in the fields 
gleamed joyously. Nellie drew a deep breath and 
leaned back against the cushions of the buggy with a 
wistful sigh. Life to her seemed all promises that were 
cut away as her hand was outheld to receive them. 

She had not heard Dr. Allison’s name mentioned 
since her return. Her father had not spoken of him 
after they left the boat, and believing that her mother’s 
sympathies were altogether with her father and against 
herself, she withdrew more and more into the solitude 
of her confidences and asked no questions. Yet she 
longed to know something ; to hear his name, even if 
but in blame. 

She rode in silence until they had driven a mile or 
two from home, and Durieux, reluctant to jar upon her 
sad reflections, waited for her to speak. He was not 
looking at her, yet when she turned her face toward 
him, his attitude seemed so expressive of sympathy, 
her poor starving soul was drawn to him for support. 

“ Mr. Durieux,” she said, hesitatingly, “ will you talk 
to me ? ” 

Jules was surprised by the plaintive, peculiar ques- 
tion. He looked at her and saw that her thoughts 
were far away from him. 

“Certainly, Miss Nellie,” he said simply. 

She was silent again and sat pulling the fingers of 
her gloves as they lay in her lap. Nellie hated gloves, 
and never kept them upon her hands when it was pos- 
sible to avoid it. To her, they were stifling — a bondage 
of fashion that could not be endured. She never 
breathed freely when her hands were in their choking 
confines. Durieux looked down at her hand now and 
thought how small and helpless they seemed in their 
restlessness. 

She saw that Durieux was watching her and blushed 
painfully. 


252 


“ Will you — tell me — ” she began slowly, then went 
on abruptly, “ Mr. Durieux, where is Dr. Allison ? ” 

She looked at him hurriedly and dropped her eyes 
again. Durieux answered calmly : 

“ He is at Lauren’s. He went to see his mother 
almost immediately after his release.” 

“Mr. Durieux, will you tell me one thing more?” 
she asked after a pause. 

“Yes,” he said, with his eyes straight before him. 
Nellie laid her hand upon his arm, and he turned and 
looked into her pathetic, questioning eyes. 

“ Mr. Durieux, do you doubt that Dr. Allison is a 
perfectly honorable man ? ” 

Durieux moved uneasily beneath her gaze. He took 
the trembling hand she had placed upon his arm into 
his right hand reverently. 

“ Little girl,” he said, “ no man who has your love 
can be a criminal. But still — ” 

Nellie started violently. “ Ah, how did you know — 
who has told you that he — that I — ” 

He smiled bitterly. “You told me yourself, first, 
and then you both told me together afterwards.” 

“ Mr. Durieux ! — ” 

“ Stop,” he said, gently. “ I know what you would 
say, but let me explain. My eyes and ears have been 
keen. I have seen and heard ; have listened to your 
tone, your voice, ever since Edward Allison first 
touched your hand in greeting. I have watched the 
telltale color in your cheek, and the flutter of your 
eyelids as they tried to hide your secret from his 
searching, magnetic glance.” 

Durieux’ voice was low and powerful in its suppres- 
sion, as he uttered the smooth French words. He 
never took his eyes from her downcast face, but went 
on speaking : 

“You told me of your happiness in his presence 


253 


with ever}^ curve of your features, and the night of the 
tournament ball, when, according to your promise of 
the dance, I took you away from him, and guided you 
through the crowd, which was like a dream to you in 
your unconsciousness of its reality — your oblivion of 
everything else but him. Later — later, on the gallery, 
just outside the ball-room, I was sitting in the shad- 
ows beside a post. The moon was almost down, and 
the Japanese lamps had died out one by one. You 
and he, pausing in your promenade, stood for a mo- 
ment so close that I could have touched you with my 
hand. He spoke to you in words that thrilled with 
love’s eloquence; and your voice, had I heard no more, 
would have told that you were — ” 

His teeth closed tightly on his lip, and a silence fell 
that was broken only by hardly drawn breath. She 
laid her hand upon his arm again, and looked into his 
averted face. 

“ Ah, you have guessed so much ; let me tell you all. 
Perhaps if some one will share the burden of my awful 
secret I will not feel so like a criminal.” 

Durieux started, and stared at her white face. She 
was looking straight into his eyes, unseeingly, and 
went on hurriedly : 

“You know so much, but you do not know all. 
You do not know that it is I who am his social mur- 
derer. You stare at me in doubt; it is so. I, by my 
act of folly, have deprived him of his right to hold his 
head up and challenge the world to search into his 
soul. It was I — I, do you hear? — I, who love him 
better than my own life — better than my mother and 
father — I, who have deprived him of that most valu- 
able of earthly belongings — his good name! ” 

She paused for breath, and Durieux gazed at her in 
distress that he could not conceal. Her eyes were 
dilated with excitement. 

1 7 


254 


“Ah, you scorn me now! I knew you would. But 
you will keep my secret and hate me as I deserve to 
be hated.” 

“For heaven’s sake hush!” implored the man, 
stricken with a fear that her wild words were the fore- 
runner of affliction that God alone can heal. He took 
her hand soothingly, but she snatched it away, and 
withdrew from him as far as the limits of the buggy- 
seat would allow. 

“ Wait,” she said tensely, “ wait till I tell you every- 
thing. You think my suffering has deprived me of 
my reason, but let me go on and tell you all.” 

She went on eagerly, and told him of her father’s 
objections to her lover, and the cruel letter, binding 
him to a promise that he would not seek an interview 
with her until his consent had been gained. She told 
him of Allisons’s proucj, courteous reply, and the weeks 
that passed without bringing her word from him or an 
opportunity of seeing him. Then she spoke of the visit 
she was preparing to make, and her determination to 
see him before she went away. Durieux knew the 
haunW cabin, and she told how she had sent Allen to 
Lauren’s to bring Dr. Allison to the interview. 

As she related the details of the night she grew calm, 
and Durieux sighed in relief; but as she described how 
she and Allison walked rapidly over the frozen roads, 
and how he stood near the gallery leading into her 
own room until she went inside and locked the door, 
and then went to the window and whispered “good 
night ” through the blinds, her excitement arose again, 
and she concluded : 

“ Do you wonder, now, that remorse is almost driv- 
ing me mad? Do you wonder that the self-sacrifice 
which prompted him to offer his own life that I might 
be free — that I might escape my father’s hatred — 
makes me willing to do anything to prove to him my 
love and gratitude ? ” 


255 


Durieux sat in silence, his eyes bent upon the rug at 
his feet. The girl leaned forward and repeated : 

“ Do you not see how much I owe him — how much 
I am to blame — what a despicable coward I am, and 
how noble, how like a martyr he is?” 

Durieux turned his head toward her coldly. “ No, 
I do not see.” 

Nellie doubted her senses. “ What! ” she cried, “you 
do not understand what I have told you? You do not 
realize how much I am to blame, nor how nobly heroic 
he is? Did you not hear?” 

Durieux smiled sardonically. “I heard you,” he 
said, still coldly. “ I heard every word you said, but I 
see neither great blame upon you nor panegyric due 
him. You made a thoughtless blunder, and he has 
done his duty. That is all.” 

She gazed as though beginning to believe in him. 
“Are you in earnest?” 

“•Perfectly,” he said, in measured, icy tones. 

“ Tell me — what do you mean ?” 

“ It is hard to do, but I will try.” He hesitated and 
began: “You were unwise, to say the least, in meet- 
ing him as you did — ” 

“ How could I help it?” she interrupted; “I wanted 
to see him so.” 

“Then,” said Jules, with his characteristic shrvg, 
“ why did you not send him word to meet you at some 
landing to go down the river with you? You knew 
that you would be alone. He had a right to go where 
he pleased, in any way he pleased. Mr. Barrett could 
not deny him that.” 

Realizing the plausibility of the suggestion, Nellie 
moaned. “ Ah, why did I not think ! ” 

“You should have thought,” he went on, calmly. 
“ Not having done so, after you had placed yourself in 
— a— I mean, after you met him, he simply did his 
duty.” 


256 


“Hie duty/^' 

Durieux was nettled. ‘‘Yes, I said ‘his duty.’ 
Where would be our vaunted Southern chivalry — the 
brightest jewel our country boasts — if a man shrank 
behind a woman to save his life or name, that it is his 
own privilege to protect. What man, with the in- 
stincts of manhood about him, but would have done 
exactly as Dr. Allison has done ? ” 

Nellie seemed dazed. She stared at him and then, 
scorning his theory, she cried: 

“ It is nothing then for a man to face the gallows or 
a life of imprisonment worse than death, that a woman 
should not be doubted ? ” 

Durieux’s lips curved sarcastically. “ The gallows 
had not yet been built, nor had the prison doors been 
opened to him. Allison had ten chances to one. He 
had a good character to sustain him and a good lawyer 
to plead his cause, while judge and prosecuting attorney 
were his friends. A man is seldom sentenced upon 
circumstantial evidence, and had this court decided 
against him, there was still another between him and 
death. There is something more — ” Durieux stopped 
abruptly, and both were silent. He looked about him 
and saw that he was more than six miles from home; 
it was growing late. Without speaking he guided his 
horse’s head around toward Sigma. 

As the buggy turned about, Nellie was aroused and 
noticed where they were. It would be dark in less 
than an hour. She sighed heavily and relapsed into 
her reverie, and they had gone some distance before she 
spoke. 

“ Then you believe that it was not love that prompted 
him,” she said wearily. 

Durieux started and looked at her sharply before he 
gathered her meaning. 

“ I did not say that.” 


257 


‘‘You said he was simply doing his duty as any 
gentleman would have done under the circumstances.” 
; Yes, I said that.” 

The girl’s eyes flashed angrily. “Then you are 
wrong. You are simply cruel and unjust! Mr. Dur- 
ieux, I have always looked upon you as a friend, as a 
real, true friend, but no friend would deprive me of all 
faith in human nature. No friend would try to turn 
every sublime instinct into ridicule or prove every sen- 
timent to be but the promptings of selfishness. You 
are skeptical and you would make me like yourself. 
No friend would do that.” 

Nellie was trembling with wrath. Durieux, stung 
by her hasty words, struggled with himself a moment 
and then the words shaped themselves without his vo- 
lition. 

“You are right.” 

The girl regarded him with dumb surprise. She had 
arrogantly accused him, unconciously wishing him to 
dispute her words. He caught her eyes and looked at 
her with such compelling force that she could not re- 
sist his hold upon her will. He went on, slowly and 
evenly : 

“You are right. I am not your friend, as you say; 
I am simply your lover.” 

Nellie returned his gaze wonderingly, and felt that 
she was in a strange dream. 

The man she had always known, the laughing, jok- 
ing, half cynical Durieux was gone and before her was 
a personage whom she had never seen before, nor 
dreamed existed. His dark eyes were glowing with a 
power and tenderness that made them beautiful. As 
she mutely questioned the new being before her, his 
firm lips relaxed into a smile as gentle as a happy 
child’s. He leaned nearer, still holding her spellbound 
with his eyes and asked softly, the bitterness all gone 
from his voice : 


258 


“ Why are you so surprised ; have I really done my 
part so well ? ” 

Nellie covered her face with her hands and moaned: 

“Oh, my God, why does everything go wrong!” 
She lifted her head and looked at him almost fiercely. 
“ Why did you fall in love with me ? ” 

Jules laughed softly. “I did not fall in love with 
you,” he said with something like a return of his usual 
spirits. “ When a man falls, there is some chance of 
his catching himself, or at least of striking something 
and bringing suspense to a conclusion. No,” he went 
on seriously, “ I did not fall ; I slipped — I glided into 
it, much as a man does into a bad habit. It came so 
gradually, so insiduously, that I did not know of my 
bondage until it was too strong to be broken. I can’t 
remember when I first realized my danger,” he said 
dreamily, as though talking to himself, “ unless it was 
the day you wore your first long dress and combed 
your hair like grown up ladies. You came into the 
parlor where your father and I sat, and asked us how 
we liked your new dress. I looked at you as you 
turned around before us and I was startled; I saw for 
the first time that you were a woman. That was 
twenty months ago. When Allison came, I saw that 
you were, indeed, no longer a child. I saw that you 
were not only a woman, but possessed a woman’s heart 
to give, and you gave it willingly. And I realized my 
loss.” 

Durieux ceased speaking, and the girl sat like one 
crushed. 

“ Three lives must be ruined,” she moaned ; “ yours, 
as well as his and mine.” 

“No. Only one will suffer. Your father will some 
day relent, and Dr. Allison will claim his own.” 

Durieux had taken the lines into his right hand, and 
his left was lying, palm down, just above his knee. 


259 


Nellie laid her own over it with infinite tenderness, 
and her voice trembled : 

“ If there was only something that could be done — if 
I could only have saved you this — ” she paused. Dur- 
ieux’ hand lay passive beneath her own, although her 
fingers closed tightly around it. A chill of repulsion 
swept over the girl, and her hand dropped back into 
her lap. Durieux parted his lightly-closed teeth, and 
his hand trembled as he took the reins back into it. 
He looked at Nellie and saw that she was wounded, 
and he inwardly muttered an invective, that was partly 
a cry of self-disgust, partly a prayer for strength. 

Nellie looked at him earnestly, and he saw her lips 
twitch with pain. 

“Mr. Durieux, I wish you could understand me — I 
wish I could make you know how much you are to 
me. I would give anything if you did not love me as 
you do, because I am afraid we will now be estranged. 
I have never thought of you as I have of h — I mean 
in the way you wish, because I have loved you in such 
a different way — oh, I wish I could explain,” she fal- 
tered, “but I can not think of just how to express 
what I feel. You know I can’t do without you any 
more than I could without father and mother. You 
have always been so kind to me,” she added, desper- 
ately serious, “and seemed to understand me better 
than any one else — even better than they. I have al- 
ways looked upon you as I do upon Carrie and Ruth, 
only I would tell you what I would not trust to them, 
because you are so much wiser, so much stronger than 
they. You can’t understand me?” She laughed a 
little, nervously, and her face colored. “ I am afraid 
the truth, is I have always forgotten that there was any 
difference between us except that of age. I have always 
felt that you were just a good, dear, stronger sort of a 
woman — one that I could trust with anything, because 


260 


there were no little jealousies or frivolities about her. 
Please understand,” she pleaded. 

Durieux threw back his head and laughed noisily. 
He was irritated far more than he was amused. He 
laughed again, and his old sarcasm returned, with even 
greater force. 

“ So ! You don’t want me to be a ‘ brother ’ to you, 
as some girls ask their rejected lovers to be. You want 
me to be a ‘sister’ instead. Well, that’s novel, cer- 
tainly ! ” 

Nellie’s eyes filled with tears, but tears of vexation. 
He had returned to his old familiar way of tormenting 
her, and it pleased her because it seemed so natural, 
yet she was angry with herself for showing her heart 
to him, only to be laughed at in return. 

Durieux, so accustomed to studying her translucent 
face, saw that he had carried his point. He had suc- 
ceeded in making her angry, and that at least would 
prevent her grieving about his wounded heart. 

When he helped her out of the buggy and opened 
the door for her, she paused and said sarcastically, 
goaded by humiliation and anger: 

“ Thank you, Mr. Durieux, for a pleasant ride.” 

Durieux laughed musically. “Ah, thanks; it is I, 
though, who am indebted to you. It is not every day 
that a man has a chance to h 11 a pretty girl how dearly 
he loves her, and,” he laughed, “ be accepted as a 
‘ sister’.” 

Nellie’s eyes flashed, and she darted away from him. 
Before she passed through the door, he caught her hand 
and compelled her to wait. 

“ There was one thing I said in the buggy,” he said, 
pressing her hand tenderly, “ that was not true.” 

There were thrilling cadences in his voice that the 
girl had never suspected could exist. 

“ I said there that I was not your friend, but simply 


261 


your lover.” He paused, and when he went on there 
wes a deeper solemnity than ever, and his tones vibrated 
in a minor chord that made Nellie’s heart stand still. 
“ I have said many things to you, little girl, — much 
that I never meant you to believe; enough to make 
you doubt me altogether, and think me what you once 
called me, a ‘ long-linked, hollow joke.’ Let us begin 
all over again. I beg you to forget everything that has 
ever passed between us, and believe only this: Jules 
Durieux is an honest man and desires your happiness 
above all other things. I will prove it,” 

He dropped her hand, and passing quickly down the 
walk, was soon gone in the twilight. 


CHAPTER XXVL 

When Jules Durieux left Nellie Barrett at the door 
of her home, a new weight of woe was added to her al- 
ready overburdened“heart. It was his purpose to seex 
an interview with Mr. Barrett next day and endeavor 
to make him look with more favor upon Dr. Allison 
and his love for the girl. But with the coming of the 
new day came reports of another tragedy that had 
been enacted in the parish, and one, too, that drove all 
other matters from the minds of men for days. 

Alvah Northcot had been brutally murdered. Alvah 
Northcot, the same handsome cavalier who crowned 
Nellie Barrett Queen X)f Love and Beauty at the tour- 
nament, had been shot down by a gang of armed 
negroes, banded together secretly for the purpose of 
promoting negro supremacy throughout the neighbor- 
hood. 

When this news swept across the parish men were 
set wild with consternation. That such a secret organ- 
ization existed was as great a shock to the inhabitants 
of Asola and vicinity as was the untimely death of 
the murdered man. That an undercurrent of insub- 
ordination surged beneath the placid surface of mutual 
harmony, seemed almost preposterous to the people 
who lived in the midst of it all. 

Young Northcot had to earn his living, and it wa& 
his circumstances, and not choice, that made the only 
situation with a good salary open to him, that upon 
Pelican plantation, as assistant manager for Major 
Appier. This Major Appier was a native of Wiscon- 
sin, so he said, who came to Lousiana eight or ten 
years previous to the time when the incident of this 
262 


263 


narrative occurred, and opened a little store on Pelican 
— a large tract of land belonging to a bank of New 
Orleans. He was a close business man, and soon he 
owned not only the store, but the entire plantation ; 
and his interests were so multiplied that he hired a 
man as assistant, besides young Felix, his son, who 
joined him soon after he entered mercantile affairs. 
Major Appier had never seen a plantation nigger until 
he reached the Southern states, and knew as little of 
his nature and peculiarities as the average Lousianian 
knows of a Hottentot or a Javanese. The Africo- 
American was to the Major a human entity — the 
means, much as was a mule, of acquiring wealth ; and 
he drew his conclusions accordingly. He was necessar- 
ily interested in the new specimen of genus homo, 
and could but be amused by the wit and good humor 
he displayed. He had some ideas, too, not gathered 
from experience, which he brought with him when he 
came. 

Major Appier was possessed of a most agreeable de- 
portment, that won him a cordial welcome when he 
arrived; and a few hints dropped accidentally, as it 
were, about the company of wealthy capitalists who 
had sent him in advance to select a section of the 
South suitable for building up oil mills, cotton facto- 
ries, and lumber institutions, caused him to be looked 
upon as a God send to the state, calculated to develop 
its natural resources to an extent undreamed of before; 
and Major Appier was dined and courted in a manner 
worthy of the magnate he was supposed to be. 

For many years Pelican was owned by the bank, 
and was rented out to darkies upon shares — the bank 
sending an agent only during the cotton season to 
collect rents and make new contracts, and, as may be 
imagined, the negroes ran the place pretty much ac- 
cording to their own ideas. Scarcely a season passed 


264 


without some serious cutting or shooting affray, due to 
plantation anarchy and bad whisky. So when the 
handsome, smooth-tongued Major came, the harrassed 
neighbors and parish officials looked to him gratefully 
for a stirring change for the better under his rule ; but 
to their sorrow, it must be said, no such improvement 
ever manifested itself. Things went on much as they 
had before, for the Northerner simply knew nothing on 
earth about handling that necessary evil of Southern 
industry — the nigger. 

No doubt he tried to be master of his own property, 
but at all events he failed, for between petting them, 
much as he did his dogs when they amused him, and 
standing in secret awe of them when the question of 
holding the mighty dollar arose, the negroes knew 
which really held the upper hand. 

Alvah Northcot, who was a thorough going South- 
erner, possessed of all of a Southerner’s innate instincts 
of caste and appreciation of the eternal fitness of things, 
found his position at Pelican a constant source of mor- 
tification. Often he had to put every check upon his 
pride and irritability that self control could suggest. 
On several occasions he proffered resignation of his sit 
nation, but Major Appier would hear to nothing of the 
kind. 

Northcot, honest, intelligent and energetic, would 
have been a hard man to replace, and his employer 
thrust such monetary inducements upon him that in 
each instance he had reluctantly reconsidered, and de- 
cided that the salary was worth holding one’s temper 
for. 

For some time before his death, Northcot was sus- 
picious that some one was nightly riding his beautiful 
little mare, the one that had gained him first honors at 
the tournament, and he determined to watch and con- 
vince himself beyond a doubt as to whether his appre- 


265 


hensions were grounded. What at last forced him into 
this resolve was her condition one morning when be 
went to her stable early to see, as was his habit, that 
she was properly cared for and fed. This animal was 
the one dumb pet he had, and his affection for her was 
almost as tender as if she were human. When he ex- 
amined her, he noticed that she seemed stiff and jaded, 
as he had often found her of late; and when led from 
her stall, she limped so badly that he was compelled to 
use another horse for his day’s riding over the fields. 
Northcot said nothing of his discovery or suspicions 
where it would be likely to reach the ears of any of the 
tenants of the place, and quietly bided his time until 
night. 

At ten o’clock, when the lights in the store and house 
were extinguished and every one supposed to be in 
bed, he concealed himself in a china tree that com- 
manded a full view of the stables, and waited. Nor did 
he have long to wait before he saw a negro unlock the 
door with a key he brought with him and go into the 
building. When he emerged a few minutes later, he 
led Pet, saddled and still limping, through the door. 
The stars were bright, and Northcot watched the man 
inspect her closely. When the negro saw that she still 
limped too badly to be used, he jerked her bridle sav- 
agely and with a diabolical oath kicked her satiny side 
so hard that the sensitive animal, accustomed only to 
Northcot’s gentle hand upon her bit, fell back helpless, 
quivering with fright. The sight of the negro’s in- 
humanity made the young man’s blood boil furiously. 
Like a demon he leaped from his concealment, and 
drawing his pistol, struck the negro over his head with 
all the strength he possessed. 

The negro, taken by surprise, bounded back, cursing 
in foulest language, and Northcot, thoroughly enraged, 
followed up his advantage, beating him unmercifully. 


266 


When Northcot’s wrath was appeased, he allowed his 
adversary to arise, and the negro slunk away muttering 
imprecations of vengeance. 

North cot stroked the still excited mare until she was 
calmed and returned her to her stall, locking the door 
and putting the negro’s key into his own pocket. 

The next day, when Major Appier was told of the 
encounter, to Northcot’s further vexation, he expressed 
deepest regret, and this developed into annoyance when 
he found that the negro whom Northcot had chastised 
was one of his most lucrative tenants besides being one 
of his greatest favorites. He spoke roughly to North- 
cot of the part he had taken in punishing the darkey 
and warned him menacingly never to allow his per- 
sonal feelings to get the better of his discretion in such 
a manner again. 

The young man was still smarting with the negro’s 
impudence and the effect of his own anger, and re- 
torted hotly. 

“ Major Appier,” he said indignantly, “ you may con- 
sider my resignation to my position on this place as 
constantly tendered, subject to your acceptance ; but in 
the meanwhile, as long as I am here 1 insist upon being 
treated with justice and respect by every darkey on 
this place. I have endured more impudence from 
negroes since I have been in your employ than I have 
in all the rest of my life put together, and if you were 
a gentleman, you would know how hard such insolence 
is to endure.” 

With these words he left the room. 

A week went by and everything on the plantation 
seemed to be moving smoothly. All of the darkies 
who had occasion to speak to Northcot or work under 
his supervision showed him the same or greater respect 
than before; the man whom he had whipped greeted 
him with sullen politeness that he recognized was 


267 

forced, yet showing that the negro recognized in him 
his superior. 

Northcot’s widowed sister lived in Asola, and it was 
his habit to spend every Sunday with her and her 
children in their happy little home. He had almost 
forgotten his trouble with the negro during the week 
that intervened, and lingered at his sister’s until nearly 
eleven o’clock on the Sunday night following his en- 
counter, enjoying the evening unusually well in con- 
versation with his sister and some young ladies who 
were making her a visit. When admonished by his 
sister that bed time had arrived, he reluctantly took 
his departure and rode across the principal street of 
Asola on his way back to Pelican. He had gone but a 
little way when Felix, who was just leaving town also, 
rode up to him and together they turned into the bayou 
road and cantered toward the plantation. 

“ Papa has been gone some time,” the boy said, in 
response to Alvah’s query. “ He w'as not feeling very 
well, and said he would go on and go to bed. As it 
was so early, I thought I would wait and ride along 
with you ; but I was beginning to believe you were 
going to stay all night.” 

Alvah rather liked this half-grown boy. There was 
a certain manliness linked with his still childish man- 
nerisms that made him generally popular, despite the 
fact that he was a relative of the now unpopular Major, 
and they rode along, talking idly upon commonplace 
subjects, as people constantly in each other’s society 
are apt to do when going over a road, as they were now, 
so familiar that either could have traversed it blind- 
folded. 

It was a dreamy, star-lit night, soft and warm as 
swansdown. There was enough light to make objects 
along the way dimly visible, showing the bare fields to 
the left, wide and dusky, and the Pecan Bayou on the 


268 


right, a mysterious line of darkness and light. The 
stream was wide and deep enough from the recent rains 
to merit the name of river and bear a good-sized steam- 
boat upon its bosom, but it was so filled with willows, 
sycamores, and oaks, that only in places did the water 
gleam beneath the stars or reveal the opposite shore. 
The trees and their accompanying undergrowth of 
shrubs and vines rioted up to the banks in tropical 
luxuriance to the edge of the wheel-tracks here and 
there, and made a gloomy fringe of shadow along the 
wayside the entire distance. 

The two boys, as they might be called — for Felix 
was only sixteen and Alvah had not yet much passed 
his twenty-fourth birthday, — had entered upon the last 
mile of their way, and had passed the division line of 
Pelican. As they drew beneath the shadows of an 
unusually thick clump of saplings, Pet shied violently. 
Her rider spoke to her soothingly, trying to calm her 
fears, but the words were scarcely uttered when the 
roport of a gun rang out sharply upon the night air, 
and Alvah Northcot fell to the ground with a bullet in 
his brain. 

Only one shot was fired, but men armed with guns 
bounded into the road, and Felix, seized with a panic 
of terror, striking his spurs into his horse’s side, dashed 
across the open fields to the woods like a madman. 

Major Appier was fond of his morning nap, and was 
seldom ready to leave his room until breakfast was put 
upon the table. He slept even later than usual the 
morning after the midnight assault on the roadside, 
and when he at last went into the dining-room he was 
surprised to find neither his son nor Northcot ready to 
join him at the meal. Neither of the young men were 
in the house, and as he was inquiring where they were 
some one said that Northcot’s horse was found at day- 


269 


light near the gate, waiting for admittance, with saddle 
and bridle on. 

In the mean time several negroes, going or coming, 
passed the form of a man lying on the roadside ; but, 
negro-like, for fear of being suspected or implicated in 
a murder, they hurried away, speaking to no one of 
what they had seen or apprehended, and it was not 
until a white man chanced that way that knowledge 
of the assassination reached the people of Asola. In 
less than an hour after the news was brought the town 
was in a fever of indignation. Vengeance seemed to 
cry out from the very soil which the young man’s foot 
had pressed from his infancy. 

No one knew or guessed who could have committed 
the hideous deed, until Major Appier discovered that 
his son had disappeared. He was really fond of the 
boy, and, believing that he had been foully dealt with, 
he set up a wild lamentation and revealed tacts which 
almost cost him his own life. 

He related an account of the difficulty between Alvah 
Northcot and the negro to the crowd of excited men 
assembled at the coroner’s inquest, which they listened 
to in grim indignation. He told his listeners how 
much he regretted young Northcot’s hasty measures 
with the negro, and that he was apprehensive from the 
first that the result would be disastrous. And then he 
told all that he knew concerning the murder of the 
night. He was on his way home from Asola, he said ; 
when he reached the place where Northcot’s body was 
found his horse shied, calling his attention to a posse 
of armed negroes, some fifteen or twenty in number, 
concealed in the bushes. He demanded to know what 
they wanted, and discovered that they were all tenants 
of Pelican. They told him they were waiting for 
Northcot, and that they were there for the purpose of 
killing him as soon as he came in sight. The men 
1 8 


270 


told him, further, they had organized a secret society 
for the purpose of establishing negro supremacy 
throughout the State. They knew he was their friend, 
they said, and he should have their protection; but 
that they were resolved to wipe out every white man, 
henceforth, who did not treat them with the same con- 
sideration that he did. 

Appier said he remonstrated with the men, and fin- 
ally gained their promise to postpone vengeance upon 
Northcot until he could have a qhance to talk to him, 
and then, feeling entirely assured, he went home. 

“ I told them,” said Appier, his distress at the loss of 
his son blinding him to the storm of resentment that 
was gathering in the breasts of his listeners, “ that I 
was sure that Alvah meant no disrespect to themselves, 
and that when he discovered that his horse had been 
abused he had acted in a moment of passion, and I 
urgt-d them to delay proceedings and give me a chance 
to talk to him and persuade him to make suitable 
amendment.” 

The crowd who gathered around Appier listened to 
his story with seeming patience until he made this last 
assertion, and at this juncture a man named Barkers, 
no longer able to contain his wrath, evidenced the 
prevailing sentiment by springing upon him like a 
beast of prey. 

“ Merciful God! ” cried Barker, clutching the North- 
erner’s throat. “ Do you dare tell us that you spoke 
to niggers about a white man’s apologizing for protect- 
ing his individual property from depredations?” 

An ominous murmur arose from the assemblage, 
that Cap Barringer was quick to see and suppress. 
He separated Barker from Appier, and the latter was 
allowed to regain his breath. For the first time the 
old man seemed to realize the position he was in. He 
looked from one to the other of the excited men sur- 


271 


rounding him, and began pleading for indulgence with 
every argument he could bring to bear in his favor. 

Barker broke away from the men who were detain- 
ing him, and turned to the crowd. 

“ Do you restrain me from strangling that viper ! ” 
he protested passionately. “ Is it not his accursed 
fault that Alvah Northcot is lying here before you, 
shot from ambush, in the night? Can you blame a 
nigger for anything he may do, when he has such a 
hell-fiend for a master as that reprobate there before 
you ? Who is Alvah North cot’s murderer — who, I ask 
you, if not the man who, knowing of his danger, slunk 
oflf to bed like a hound and left an innocent man to 
go blindly into a trap that awaited him ? If Major 
Appier was not in sympathy with the negroes he has 
so materially aided in demoralizing, why did he not 
hurry back to Asola and gather men to save Northcot’s 
life? Even if he did not want negro supremacy de- 
feated, why did he not at least warn Northcot of the 
danger he was in ? Who is Northcot’s murderer?” 

Major Appier quailed beneath the wrathful eyes 
bent upon him. He made one more protest with his 
white lips. 

“How could I, gentlemen — how could I have re- 
turned to Asola, with twenty shot-guns pointed at 
me?” 

“ Was the bayou road the only way to reach Asola? ” 
demanded Barker relentlessly. “Is not the road 
through the fields near the railroad even three miles 
shorter ? ” 

“Gentlemen, I beseech you to hear me,” Appier 
pleaded. “ Surely none of you can believe that 1 did 
not have faith in the promise I had won from the men. 
Had I for a moment doubted them, I would have 
made an efibrt to warn Alvah. My own child was 
with him, and you must surely believe that I would 


272 


not have left him to a fate so terrible had I suspected 
that it awaited him. Where is Felix?” he cried, 
wringing his hands. “ Is no one going to help me 
find my poor boy’s body ? ” 

Public sentiment swayed slightly in sympathy with 
the bereaved father, and Captain Barringer, quick to 
take advantage of it, caught Appier b}^ the arm and 
whispered : 

“ They are going now to look for Felix. The train 
goes through in an hour. You had better hurry. I 
can’t promise to protect you. You see what you have 
done ; you see how they feel.” 

Appier groaned. “Captain, I can’t leave my boy — ” 

Barringer shrugged his shoulders. “ Leave the boy 
to me. Everybody likes Felix.” 

Before Appier was allowed to go the sheriff com- 
pelled him to make a list of the negroes who consti- 
tuted the gang assembled for the purpose of killing 
Northcot, and as the greater part of the crowd dis- 
persed to seek the missing boy, Appier followed Cap. 
Barringer’s advice, and escaped the people’s vengeance 
while he could. 

It was not long before Felix was found. Barker 
detected hoof-prints from the road leading across the 
freshly plowed fields, and following these into the 
woods, the boy was found hiding among the trees, still 
frightened almost out of his senses. He was unhurt, 
except for a few scratches he had given himself in his 
flight through the woods. 


CHAPTER XXVII. 


By sun down nearly all of the men who had been 
searching for the negroes implicated in NorthcoPs mur- 
der had returned to Asola or their homes in the ad- 
jacent villages or plantations, and eight or ten negroes 
had been captured during the day and landed in jail ; 
but still the ring-leaders, the organizers, of the society 
or clique had not been found, and the sheriff, his depu- 
ties, Barker and several other men as determined as 
the latter upon checking anarchy were still out, nor 
did they return until it grew so dark in the woods that 
a negro could not have been seen if he had been come 
upon. 

Throughout the day a portentous muttering echoed 
from mouth to mouth among the thoroughly incensed 
citizens, that made Captain Barringer shudder. As 
soon as he returned to Asola, worn as he was with hun- 
ger and fatigue, he went immediately to the stout brick 
jail to see that it was secure. 

The jailor, an immense black negro, strong enough to 
throttle an ox, who had served in that capacity for 
years, was on duty and went with Captain Barringer 
upon his rounds of inspection. 

The negroes arrested and brought in during the day 
were quiet, but they were terribly frightened. They 
too, had heard. 

Captain Barringer saw the jailor lock and bar the 
place properly, and taking the keys from his hand, he 
carried them home with him. 

Mrs. Barringer’s anxiety during the day had been so 
great that she was almost prostrated with nervousness, 
and when at last her husband returned, the delight of 
273 


274 


seeing him again at home and unharmed very nearly 
caused her to give way to the hysterics that had threat- 
ened her all day. She was a frail looking little woman, 
really stronger than her appearance indicated, with a 
capacity for loving her pertly, genial husband far more 
in keeping with his size than her own. 

She had a tempting supper awaiting the tired sheriff 
and he lost no time in disposing of it. In seeking the 
rest he desired so keenly. Captain Barringer could not 
sleep, as much as he longed to do so. He tried to lie 
quietly, for every time he moved, however cautiously, 
he could see a pair of wide blue eyes as far from slum- 
ber as were his own. At last, though, he dozed and 
was drifting into blissful oblivion when the bell on his 
front door pealed violently and he started up to find 
the blue eyes bending above him, not having yet been 
closed. 

“The keys — oh, darling, they’ve come for the keys; 
what shall we do — what shall we do ! ” As Mrs. Bar- 
ringer spoke she jumped out of bed and catching up 
the keys from where they lay on the mantel-piece, she 
clutched them to her bosom in desperate resolution. 

Barringer kissed his wife tenderly and begged her to 
be calm. The bell rang again as he hurried into his 
clothes, and as the third sharp peal echoed through the 
house, he opened the front door and stepped upon the 
gallery. As Captain Barringer confronted the group of 
determined men standing about the steps, Mr. Barker 
stepped nearer and spoke : 

“Captain, I have to trouble you for the jail keys, if 
you please.” 

“ Mr. Barker, you know that you are asking more of 
me than it is in my power to grant,” Barringer said, 
firmly. 

“Now, look here, Barringer, it ain’t any use for you 
to talk like this,” said Barker, coaxingly. “We were 


275 


afraid you would want to act this way. Where are the 
keys?” 

“ They are in my room.” 

“ Then we must get them.” 

“Gentlemen,” began the sheriff, closing the door 
behind him and moving further out among them, 
“ this is a case of about thirty to one, and I know as 
well as you do that resistance on my part will be una- 
vailing; but I tell you plainly that to pass through 
that door you must step over my prostrate body, and 
when you have done that you will still have to lay 
violent hands upon a defenseless woman before the 
keys are reached. I have already said all that I can to 
turn you from this course. I have pleaded, I have 
reasoned, — I have used every argument in my power 
to dissuade you from committing this crime. You 
protest,” he interposed, listening to the murmur that 
surged through the crowd, “ but ifris a crime, and one 
that each of you must answer for in a hereafter. You 
are right when you say that Alvah Northcot’s murder 
must be avenged. It must — and it shall be; but let 
the law — that law by which we white men should be 
the first to abide — take its course. I beg you once 
more to go quietly to your homes, and do nothing in 
this case, further than help me find the ring-leaders of 
the gang still at large. I do not want to shed any 
man’s blood — you see I am entirely unarmed, — but 
you can not get the keys as long as I am alive.” 

There was a growl of rebellious protest in the crowd, 
followed by Barker’s irritable assertion : 

“You know well enough, Barringer, that there’s not 
a man among us who would be willing to hurt you or 
annoy your wife. What you say about the law and 
the nigger is all well enough when it is handled as a 
theory, but wh^'n it comes to the nigger himself it’s an- 
other thing. You may as well expect to control a child 


276 


by law. No, sir; we know what it is our duty to do, 
and we are here to do it. We are here not so much to 
avenge poor Northcot’s assassination as we are to teach 
the niggers a lesson about nigger rule that they won’t 
be likely to forget as long as this generation lives. As 
long as they are fools enough to be influenced by such 
dollar-worshipping scoundrels as Appier, they must 
bear the consequences. The sooner they learn that 
nigger supremacy can never be obtained until the last 
drop of white man’s blood is spilled, the better it will 
be for them. Come now. Captain,” he added, again 
using persuasion, “give us the keys. We don’t want 
to hurt you, and we don’t want to damage the jail and 
put the parish to the expense of repairs.” 

“ As to that, Mr. Barker, I have nothing to say. If 
the jail is not strong enough to hold the parish prison- 
ers in and keep a mob out, it is our misfortune. I 
realize that I am unable to stay your hand if you are 
bent upon destruction of life and property. Two-thirds 
of the men of Asola and neighborhood are here among 
you, and there are not enough men left to assist me in 
resisting you, even had I time here at midnight to 
assemble them for the purpose.” Captain Barringer 
turned once more to the mob and pleaded as he had 
earlier in the day : “ For God’s sake, be temperate, — 

leave the punishment of these men to the hand of the 
law ! ” 

“ Hand of the law be ! ” exclaimed Barker, thor- 

oughly aroused by what he considered the sheriff’s pig- 
headed stubbornness. “Captain Barringer, I ask you 
once more to give us the keys.” 

“ Mr. Barker, I have told you upon what conditions 
only you can get the keys.” 

Barker wheeled around and with a muttered impre- 
cation, which was echoed upon every side, walked out 
of the yard, followed by the men, who were one with 
him in sentiment. 


277 


The crowd surged through the gate after him, and 
without question proceeded in a body, to their favorite 
resort. Many of them had been there too often already 
since dusk. 

It was twelve o’clock when the crowd filed into the 
saloon, and the sleepy bar-keeper sprang up with in- 
terest. 

“ What news, boys?” he asked, eagerly. 

Some one told him of the interview with Captain 
Barringer, as he put whiskey and glasses upon the 
counter. Whiskey and words flowed freely, and one 
ofter another of the men turned to Barker for his 
opinion. 

Barker had been saying little. After taking one 
drink, he refused to swallow another. He stood lean- 
ing against the counter, listening to the hot-headed 
threats that rapidly chased each other through the 
conversation. Some one addressed him. 

“ Eh, Barker,” the voice said, mockingly. “As Bar- 
ringer says, better leave these devils to the hand of the 
law, eh ? ” 

Barker, never for a moment having relinquished his 
design, fired at the words and declaimed : 

“Gentlemen, I ask you what is the hand of the law? 
What is it but a piece of clumsy machinery, pulled by 
politics on one side and money on the other ? What 
has the so-called hand of the law done in the cases of 
robbery and murder that have made our parish and 
the counties across the river flow with blood in the past 
eight months? What has the law done to the robbers 
who would have murdered old manChaflin? What, 
I demand, has that mighty power done to avenge the 
assassination of Sidney Carroll and Vincent Minor? 
And now that we have caught the devils red-handed 
in their crimes, we must turn the matter over to the 
mighty strength of the all -just law! What does a 


278 


nigger care for law in any of its forms ? What respect 
ha*^ he for any ethics that he cannot see wreaking im- 
mediate punishment upon a transgressor ? Most of you 
have heard of the hanging of Lige Bowen, for the 
murder of his wife, at Hudson’s Landing some ten 
years ago. I was there. When Bowen ripped his wife’s 
heart out, and was confronted by her brothers and the 
friends who watched her and her child together die a 
lingering death of agony, he fled from the just ven- 
geance of his own race and threw himself upon the 
mercy of the law. I saw him the day he was hidden 
in jail from the niggers, who would have killed him 
like the reptile that he was, and I never saw more 
abject terror on a human face. I thought he would die 
of fright. His bright yellow skin looked green in its 
pallor, and the blood that should have been in his lips 
had gone to his eyes in clotted veins. 

“ The law extended its hand and shielded him from 
being cut to shreds by his wife’s brothers. The sheriff 
compassionately locked him in jail to await his trial, 
and in the peaceful seclusion of the Oakport jail his 
‘ reformation ’ began. His preacher and religious friends 
crowded to see him. He was prayed for and wept over. 
In the year of indolence he had, Christ’s promises to 
the repentant sinner were chanted so continuously in 
his ears that by the time the hour came for paying the 
penalty of his deed, he had so far recovered from fear 
and regret of his crime, if he ever felt any, that he 
looked upon himself as a martyr — a second Daniel. 

“ I saw him the morning he was hanged, and, by 
George, he had worked himself into such a state of 
religious exaltation at the thought of stepping imme- 
diately into the presence of his God — whom he swore 
had come in person to visit him the night before — that 
he could scarcely wait for the appointed moment to 
come. Yes, sir; he went to that gallows with as firm 


279 


a step and as proud a bearing as ever a king went to 
his coronation, and there was a look in his face that 
showed the ecstacy he was in. The hundreds of nig- 
gers crowded around the jail steps, as he came out, all 
saw that look as well as. I, and I venture to say there 
was not a religious fanatic there but who would gladly 
have exchanged places with him if he would have 
suffered it. He paused at the head of the steps and 
swept his eyes across the multitude before him, and in 
a voice that rang like a clarion to the farthest limits of 
the crowd, he shouted : ‘Good bye, children of God; 

follow me ! ’ Follow him ! — and I’ll be if they 

haven’t been doing it ever since! ” 

Barker paused for breath and then went on with 
flashing eyes: 

“ Gentlemen, there isn’t a man among you but knows 
a nigger as he knows an open book — knows his total 
depravity and knows his few guod points. You know 
that he is a creature of emotions and superstition. 
His chief delight, next to gambling, is in working him- 
self into a state of religious frenzy. He is a consum- 
mate coward and can resist stealing no better than a cat 
can. He can give a Turk a fair start and then beat him 
lying and cheating. What Captam Barringer and Mr. 
Barrett said today about amending the laws to fit the 
exigency of such cases is of course a capital idea and 
one that should be acted upon without delay; but 
gentlemen, we are not here for the purpose of legislat- 
ing tonight nor here to discuss the negroes’ past nor his 
future. We are ber« to give the niggers such an object 
lesson in negro insurrection as will not be forgotten in 
many a day.” 

A shout of assent interrupted the speaker’s rapidly 
flowing words, and when it subsided Barker went on, 
his firm voice ringing with contagious patriotism : 

“ Has it come to that point where a white man dare 


280 


not try to defend his personal property? Has it come 
to the pass where a man dare not venture along a pub- 
lic road at night without a bullet proof armor for him- 
self and beast? Can’t a man keep an honest store on 
his place without a regiment of police to protect him 
from being robbed and assassinated as soon as it is 
dark ? Gentlemen, have we not met with enough out- 
rages within the last few months to make a man either 
a driveling coward or else desperate enough to wipe out 
the pestilence at any cost? What is to become of our- 
selves, of our homes, if we yield in this — we, a handful 
of white men amid thousands of half savage negroes?” 

Barker paused once more and when he spoke again 
excitement had left his manner, and his words came 
with a calmness and clearness that suggested polished 
steel. 

‘‘ Gentlemen, I ask you one last question. Answer 
it to suit yourselves. Who is there here, in this crowd, 
willing to go with me and give these fiends the punish- 
ment they deserve?” 

There was not a dissenting voice or gesture, not one. 
Next morning three ghastly forms hung from the upper 
rear gallery of the court-house and vengeance was 
begun. 

All day long men searched the plantations and woods 
adjoining Pelican for the leaders of the organization, 
but with no success. Blood-hounds were telegraphed 
for and set upon the track of the fugitives, but when 
night came nothing had been achieved, yet the baffled 
mob was as determined as ever. 

The miserable wretches in jail looked upon the last 
gleam of the setting sun, shooting its parting rays 
through the grating of the door, with terror that 
amounted to despair. 

The lamps were lighted and the unhappy victims of 
misguided ambition huddled together in the cage, lis- 


281 


tening for any foot-fall upon the stair that might herald 
their doom. With each gliding moment, their misery 
became more acute. The jailor was with them trying 
to cheer them with his presence, while inwardly he 
quaked and started covertly at every sound. He had 
been ordered by Captain Barringer to remain with the 
prisoners all night and he was trying to do his duty, 
but the temptation to fly from the scene he dreaded 
was almost more than he could withstand. He had 
almost made up his mind to go to the sheriff and give 
up his office as jailor or be released from spending the 
night at his post, when his delayed plans were shattered 
by the sound of advancing foot- steps. 

The outer door that had been broken down by the 
mob the previous night still lay in ruins, and the party 
of men now approaching entered without opposition. 

As the men entered, the jailor crouched behind a cell 
door and the prisoners, one and all, groveled upon 
their knees, screaming for mercy. The attitude of the 
wretched creatures, so pathetic and yet so nearly gro- 
tesque, together with the ignominious flight of their 
giant protector, seemed to strike all of the white men 
at once in the same light, and a burst of laughter vi- 
brated against the stilled walls. 

“Get up from there, you miserable fool! ” said one of 
the men, shoving the nearest prostrate negro with his 
foot. “ Get up, I say. What mercy do you deserve ? 
What mercy did you show to Alvah Northcot when 
you stood by and saw him shot. Get up. We are here 
to keep you from getting your just deserts from the 
hands of the lynchers and not to send you to the devil 
where you belong.” 

The speaker was Jules Durieux. 

When Captain Barringer wrote Mr. Barrett asking 
him to send what men he could to help him guard the 
prisoners from the mob until danger was past, Jules, 


282 


talking to Mr. Barrett at the time that the note was 
received, instantly volunteered his services, and he and 
two others from Sigma rode out to Asola together, while 
Mr. Barrett went with the crowd to further search the 
woods along the river. 

There were ten or twelve men who went to the jail, 
and these sat there passing the time as best they could 
until daylight. For two nights Jules stayed and then, 
the hunted negroes still being at large, he went back 
to his work and some one else took his place. He was 
tired out when he reached Englehart after his second 
watch at the jail and was eager to get to bed and to 
sleep, but Wheeler was anxious to hear the news and 
stopped him to talk. 

“ By the way, Jules, what do you suppose Martha 
Coleman is buying so much extra provisions for, the 
last few days ? ” 

“ Why, i don’t know,” laughed Jules, “unless she is 
killing the fatted calf for the prodigal. Burrill’s gone 
back to her since Ella Green died. The darkies tell it 
on Burrill that he is afraid to stay in his house alone 
since the girl died there, and has returned to Martha 
for protection.” 

Wheeler laughed. “What struck me as being sin- 
gular was that she paid cash for what she got.” 

“Oh, well,” yawned Jules, “ I suppose Burrill’s been 
lucky at craps again. What did she get? ” 

“ Well, salmon, sardines, dried apples, canned peach- 
es, crackers, and such things; besides flour and ham. 
She got so much of each was what made me curious 
about it.” 

Jules made some trivial remark, and hurried off to 
bed, where he slept in blessed oblivion of his sore 
heart, of Edward Allison, the negro uprising, lynchers, 
and every other earthly thing, for two hours. 

When Louis came to awaken Durieux for dinner, he 


283 


told him that a certain one of the tenants had been 
waiting for some time, and seemed very anxious to 
talk to him, but that Mr. Wheeler would not allow him 
to be awakened. 

“All right, Louis,” said Durieux, throwing cool 
water over his sleepy face. “Tell him I’ll be out 
directly.” 

“Mr. Juro,” a voice without called tentatively, “I’d 
rather come in there, sir. ef you don’t mind.” 

“All right, Jake,” said Durieux, recognizing the 
voice. He went to the mirror and commenced brush- 
ing his hair. The darkey entered, and shut the door 
carefully behind him. It is so altogether out of a 
negro’s line of conduct to close a door, that Durieux 
noticed the act instantly, and moved his head slightly, 
so that he could see the negro’s reflection in the glass 
before him, and there he carefully studied the man’s 
troubled features as he stood behind him, unconscious 
of the scrutiny he was subjected to. 

Jules put on his collar and waited for the man to 
speak, watching him in the glass as he buttoned it. 
Turning around abruptly, he demanded : 

“ Well?” 

The negro jumped as if he had been shot, and a 
look of fear masked his face. Durieux tied his cravat 
and said naturally : 

“ Well, Jake, what can I do for you?” 

The darkey showed so much relief that Jules almost 
laughed aloud. 

“Mr. Juro,” began Jake, choosing the darkey’s usual 
form of asking a delicate question, “dey ain’t offerin’ 
no reward for de capture of Mr. Northcot’s murderers, 
is dey ? ” 

“ Yes.” 

The darkey shifted uneasily. 

“Mr. Juro, if a man knowed dem niggers ought to 


284 


be hung for dey meanness, an’ was to tell where dey 
was at, would dey pay him de money ’thout lettin’ 
any of de colored people know who ’twas give ’em 
away ? ” 

“They ‘pintedly’ would,” Durieux declared em- 
phatically. Then he adroitly added: “Jake, if you 
happen to know of anybody who has an idea where 
these rascals are, you tell them I answer for it, if they 
will give us the desired information, the money shall 
be paid over to the man who earns it, and nobody, 
white or black, shall know who gets the reward. You 
understand ? ” 

Jake drew near the chair where Durieux had thrown 
himself, and leaning over, he whispered cautiously : 

“ I knows where dem niggers is at. Dey’s at Marthy 
Coleman’s. One of ’em is her brother on her pa’s side ; 
an’ dey’s fixin’ to cross de river tonight in a skiff.” 

“ Is it possible ! Those niggers concealed on Engle- 
hart! Jake, you must carry a letter to Mr. Barrett as 
soon as I write it. You need not be afraid,” he added 
as he saw the perplexity in the man’s face. “You are 
simply to take a sealed letter to Mr. Barrett, and you 
will not be supposed to know what’s in it. Be sure 
that the note is put into his hand, and then your 
work will be done. You can go anywhere you like 
then.” 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 


Durieux and Wheeler sat upon their horses in the 
shadow of the trees, waiting impatiently. It was 
growing late, and Mr. Barrett had not yet arrived. 
They did not think it probable that the negroes would 
attempt to go out to the river as long as there was a 
chance that white people might be encountered on the 
road. The moon, now three days old, was bright 
bright enough to light the open fields too well for 
egress by that way to the river, and a skiff could not 
pass across the river without possible detection. 

At last Durieux descried a body of horsemen ad- 
vancing, and Wheeler and he rode forth to meet them. 

“You are late,” he commented as soon as he drew 
near. 

“ Yes,” Mr. Barrett returned. “ Early this afternoon 
Mr. Barker and his men came through Sigma, saying 
that the negroes were reported to have gone through 
Willowburn, intending to cross the river near there ; 
so we joined them and rode down the river, only to 
find that we were misled. I was there when Jake 
brought me your note. How did you discover that 
they were on Englehart?”' 

Durieux evaded the question. “ The search will not 
be fruitless here. We are certain of finding them now, 
I think.” 

“Have they been caught?” Mr. Barrett asked eager- 
ly, misinterpreting Durieux’ confidential manner. 

“No. There were only two of us, you see, so we 
thought best to wait. We ought to begin the search 
at once, however, now that you are here.” 

He turned and led the way, followed by the crowd, 

285 


19 


286 


— a party of nearly thirty, — which consisted of every 
type of white man in the parish. There were Mr. Bar- 
rett and his employees, and Mr. Hays, besides several 
others who were bitterly opposed to mob law in any of 
its forms, and whose chief motive in joining the hunt 
for the negroes was to prevent violence, if it lay in the 
power of man to do so without shedding a friend’s 
blood; Mr. Barker, arid men like him, who believed 
that malignant diseases required heroic treatment; 
and the type represented by Mr. Henderson, who as- 
serted that when negroes took their own lives in their 
hands, they alone were responsible for the result; and, 
last, that class ever ready for adventure, believing that 
might is right, and that a man is not a man without 
unlimited license, primarily, and an internal capacity 
for whiskey that allowed as much absorption of the 
beverage, without flooring him, as his taste demanded. 
This last type, fortunately, was in the minority; yet 
it was there, in force sufficient to incite the more im- 
pulsive men to acts of haste that better judgment in 
cooler moments would condemn. 

The crowd moved toward the back part of Engle- 
hart, following Durieux and Wheeler as silently as 
possible. When Martha Coleman’s house was in sight, 
five or six of the men dismounted and moved on 
cautiously, leaving their horses to the care of the rest. 

Durieux knocked on the door of the cabin, and after 
some delay it was opened by Martha herself. She 
peered into the night, and started violently when she 
saw the group of white men on her gallery. 

Durieux, Mr. Barrett, and Barker pushed by the 
woman and entered the house. 

“ Martha, where are the men ? ” 

“ La, Mr. Durieux, what men is you talkin’ about ? ” 
Martha stammered, staring at the three men with 
dilated eyes. 


287 


“ The men you are helping to hide,” said Durieux, 
calmly ; “ the men who have been here since last 
night ; the man who left his shoes there by the chair.” 

The woman had partially regained her self-posses- 
sion, and answered sullenly, casting a quick furtive 
glance at the forgotten shoes. 

“ They ain’t no men been here.” 

“Where is Burrill?” 

“ I don’t know where Burrill’s at. He don’t stay 
around me much ; everybody knows that.” 

The woman bristled with stubborn defiance, and 
Barker was exasperated. Two or three other men had 
come into the cabin, and turning to one of these, 
Barker commanded: 

“ Bring me one of the ropes ; this woman’s got to be 
strung up to the rafters to make her remember things.” 

Martha watched the men bring in the rope, and 
falling upon her knees, she implored : 

“ For God’s sake don’t kill me ! I ain’t to blame for 
nothin’; God knows I ain’t.” 

As Barker made a pretense of putting the rope 
around the woman’s neck, she screamed in a mad- 
dened paroxysm of terror, and bounding to her feet, 
she would have escaped if the men near the door had 
not caught her. She stared about her wildly, and 
Durieux, fearing to frighten her too much, went up to 
her and spoke compassionately : 

“Tell me where the men are,” he said decisively, 
“and no one shall hurt you.” 

The woman trembled piteously, and clutched Du- 
rieux’ arm, feeling sheltered by his sympathy. She 
leaned over and whispered hoarsely : “ Look in de 
cotton house.” 

The men released her, and she sank into a limp 
heap upon the floor, sick with fear. 

The mob outside, in the meanwhile, had surrounded 


288 


the house, and had hitched some of the horses to the 
rough walls of the little cotton-house standing a few 
paces back. Hays and two other men were leaning 
against the door of the cotton-house, when Durieux 
went up to him and whispered : 

‘‘ She says they are in here.” 

‘^What! in here?” cried Ha3"s, wheeling around; “I 
don’t believe a word of it!” With that he jerked the 
door open and jumped into the room. The aperture 
was about two feet above the ground, without steps. 
When he and several who followed him had entered 
the small apartment and looked about them with the 
aid of a match some one lighted, they found it entirely 
empty. 

There was a loft, and Hays sprang from the floor 
through the opening, using the rough logs of the wall 
to assist him in mounting. The moon was shining 
dimly through the open gable end, and Hays had 
hardly leaped into the loft before he found himself 
surrounded by the desperate, hunted negroes. 

Grabbing the nearest, he drew his pistol and shouted, 
“ They are here 1 ” 

It took but a few moments to get the negroes down 
from the loft, but when all but one had descended, he 
held back reluctantly. 

“ Go on,” said Durieux. 

“ Let me git my hat,” he retorted doggedly. 

“Go on, I tell you. I’ll bring your hat.” Durieux 
gathered the hats that lay scattered about the floor and 
climbed down as he had ascended aided by the log wall. 
When he reached the ground, the negroes were in the 
midst of a group of white men and their hands were 
being securely bound. In the dim light Durieux had 
to look closely to distinguish the features before him. 
The first face that he gazed into made him start back 
in amazement. 


289 


“ Burrill Coleman ! ” he cried. “ In heaven’s name, 
what are you doing in this?” 

Coleman laughed a short, hard laugh. He returned 
Durieux’ gaze calmly. “I’ll take my hat, boss, if you 
please.” 

Jules, too confused by his surprise to further question 
the negro, placed the hat upon his head and moved on 
toward the other helpless captives. At the final suc- 
cess in securing the leaders of the gang, the mob was 
working itself into a condition bordering upon mad- 
ness, and as Durieux listened to the passionate words 
that were hurled back and forth like red hot missiles, 
he shuddered and his heart grew heavier within him. 

“These are the niggers!” Barker was almost scream- 
ing in his excitement. “These are the fellows we 
want. Buck Williams and Jeif. Our job’s ’most done 
now, boys ! ” 

Durieux had come to the last of the negroes and he 
looked about him in consternation. He realized that 
there were only four negroes and five hats. 

The mob shouted and swore. “We’ve got ’em, have 
we? Got ’em at last! String ’em up to the first tree! 
’Twon’t take long to send ’em to the country where 
they can’t form secret societies ! ” 

The threats would not be idle. Durieux crushed the 
two old hats he held together and pressed both upon 
the last negro’s head. 

When the white men, headed by Hays, rushed into 
the cotton-house, fired with excitement and incredulity, 
they were entirely at the mercy of the negroes, and 
Hays at last, when the prisoners were secure, stopped 
to consider the danger he had been in. The negroes 
seemed unarmed, and he asked, wonderingly : 

“ Where are your shot-guns? ” 

“We lost ’em,” growled Jeff. 

“How was that?” demanded Barker, incredulously. 


290 


“You all set the hounds on us an’ we throwed ’em 
into de slough an’ climbed trees.” 

“Well I’ll be doggoned! You say the blood hounds 
were on your trail ? ” 

Jeff giggled. “ They sho was. They had us but you 
all thought they didn’t know they business, an’ called 
’em off.” 

Burrill Coleman was silent and alert. With closed 
lips he watched every movement of his captors, though 
not a sound escaped him. The other three talked will- 
ingly and answered the questions put to them with a 
coolness that made Durieux watch them in mute 
amazement. The mob had remounted and with the 
prisoners on foot, the crowd moved on, gaining the 
roadway leading through the fields toward the river. 

Buck Williams was walking between Mr. Hays and 
Durieux and presently, lifting an unconcerned counte- 
nance to the latter, he asked : “ Boss, is you got any 
tobacco? I’s most dead for a good chaw. T ain’t had 
none since Sunday.” 

Durieux shook his head. “No, I have none.” 

The darkey then turned to Hays with his request 
and Hays, who used it, felt in a pocket and drawing 
out a piece of a plug, cut off some with his knife and 
placed it upon the scoundrel’s outstretched tongue. 

The night was wearing away. One and another of 
the roosters in the negroes’ chicken houses, dotting the 
fields all over the place, settled down after the midnight 
signal had been throated from one side of the planta- 
tion, on and on, and back again. 

Now and then a cur in the distance yelped, but si- 
lence shrouded the world save for the sighing of the 
wind in the distant trees and the tramp of the horses’ 
feet upon the hard road. Occasionally one of the riders 
spoke to another in a low tone, but the uproar of ex- 
citement was smoldering and seemingly extinct. A 


291 


negro burying ground had come in sight and voices 
seemed more stilled than ever. The old graves, weed 
grown and sunken, were overhung by a group of enor- 
mous pecans and cottonwoods from whose gaunt limbs 
the long grey moss swayed with a soft “ swish ” as 
though to warn the passing mob from the dismal re- 
treats it overhung. 

Barker drew his horse up violently beneath the 
branches ot a pecan tree reaching far across the road 
and in his ringing deep-chested voice, he demanded: 

“ Where are we taking these accursed devils? What 
better place than this can we find for ending their 
abominable lives?” 

A chorus of assent went up from the crowd and the 
tempest of excitement once more burst forth. 

Like a flash Mr. Barrett spurred from his position in 
the rear of the procession, and wheeling his horse he 
faced the mob and began : 

“Gentlemen, I realize the utter uselessness of my 
trying to turn you from your present purpose. For 
the last three days everything that could be said has 
been urged against this hasty method of punishment. 
To argue with you further would be but a waste of 
breath. I have urged everything I could to persuade 
you to let the men have a trial aod be dealt with by 
the officers of the law. You all know how emphatic- 
ally I disapprove of lynching. No man living more 
earnestly desires to stop the wholesale crimes that have 
afflicted us within the last year than I — no man more 
willingly will lend his aid toward punishing Alvah 
Northcot’s assassins than I, nor is any one more deter- 
mined to put dow'n the negro rebellion which has so 
recently arisen in our midst; but, gentlemen, I am de- 
termined to take no part in so-called mob law. We 
are men enough, it is to be hoped, to make laws and 
abide by them ; the laws are in the white man’s hands 


292 


and it is his duty to keep them there, but it is none the 
less his duty to be the first to abide by these laws which 
his state has made. There is little difference between 
lynching and cold blooded murder, and I beg you, if 
you cannot be turned from your purpose of hanging 
these negroes tonight, that you will at least not murder 
them wdthin the limits of my property.” 

The muttering of anger that arose was cut short by 
Mr. Hays riding up to Mr. Barrett’s side. He was de- 
termined not to witness the intended crime wherever 
it might be committed, and he spoke decisively : 

“ Gentlemen, Mr. Barrett is right. Lynching is a sin 
before God, and I beseech you not to let your haste and 
excitement cause you to do that which in your calmer 
moments will fill you with remorse. At all events,” he 
went on, growing angry with the hissing and epithets 
of derision that greeted his words, “ Barrett has a right 
to his own plantation and may say what shall be done 
upon it. These men don’t live here — their homes are 
fifteen miles from here. Their wives should at least 
be allowed the privilege of giving their bodies proper 
burial.” 

“ Here, here,” some young upstart in the crowd cried. 
“That won’t go! Burrill Coleman does live on this 
place!” 

“ I am in hopes,” said Mr. Barrett gravely, “ that 
Burrill can satisfactorily explain his connection with 
this affair. Jeff Douglas, as is well known, is a con- 
nection of Coleman’s wife. Isn’t that so, Jeff?” 

“ She claims to be,” the darkey replied indifferently. 
“ A half sister or something of that kind.” 

Barker turned abruptly upon Burrill. “ Can you 
explain your connection with this gang of murderers?” 

Buck Williams screwed his ugly face into a grin. 
“ I should smile,” he muttered. Burrill stood silently 
staring at the ground, and he went on jeeringly, rais- 


293 


ing his voice. “Go ahead, Mr. Coleman. Explain to 
these gent’men how it comes you is seen in sich unde- 
sirable comp’ny. Speak up for youseff — I knows you 
kin do it — an’ maybe we won’t all go to heaven by the 
same train.” 

Burrill lifted his head and looked at his tormentor 
coldly. 

Wheeler rode up to Durieux and questioned anx- 
iously : “Jules, what can this mean? Surely — ” 

He broke off and listened again. Buck returned 
Burrill’s gaze for a moment, then shifted uneasily. 
The two other captives laughed, and the older one 
taunted with malicious glee. 

“ Got you under his thumb yet, ain’t he, Buck?” 

Coleman turned upon him and whispered fiercely : 
“ Fool ! If you are goin’ to hang, why don’t you do it 
like a man ? ” 

Barker again confronted Burrill. “ Why did these 
men come to you as soon as they were in trouble? 
Ah, Burrill, I am inclined to believe that when the 
Mississippians sent for you, they had just cause for 
doing it.” 

“ Mr. Barker,” said Burrill, with his habitual polite- 
ness, “ nobody can’t prove that I ever done anything 
wrong. Ask Mr. Durieux and Mr. Wheeler. They 
knows I’m a hard-workin’ man. I stays at home 
attendin’ to my business year in an’ year out. I owns 
up, I ought not to be seen in no such company ; but, 
as Mr. Barrett says, Jeff’s my wife’s brother, and it ain’t 
but natural but what I’d try to help him save his life.” 

While Coleman spoke the other three negroes stood 
looking at him with mingled surprise and admiration, 
and when he finished, Buck threw back his head and 
laughed uproariously. 

“ What we most want to know,” cried some one of 
the hotheads, impatient at the delay, “ is, have we got 
the leader of the Pelican gang ? ” 


294 


“ Yes, yes! That’s what we want to know.” 

The crowd surged back and forth, and Barker turned 
again to Coleman. 

“ I suppose, then,” he said, “ you know nothing of 
the society organized on Pelican for the purpose of 
killing out the white men ? ” 

“ No sir,” he returned, stoutly, ‘‘ I know nothing 
of it.” 

Jeff Douglass uttered a long, low whistle, and the 
other two exchanged significant glances. Buck opened 
his mouth to speak, but Coleman turned his glittering 
black eyes upon him, and he slunk back in silence. 
Again the crowd moved restlessly. 

“ Are we sure we’ve got the ringleader ? ” 

“ I think we have,” said Barker. “ Major Appier 
told me that Buck Williams and Jeff Douglass were 
the men he was talking to the night of the murder.” 

He turned here to Buck and put the direct question, 
“ Are you the leader of the gang, Buck ? ” 

“No sir,” the man answered, without a moment’s 
hesitation. 

“ Jeff, are you ? ” 

“ No sir.” 

Barker then asked the young negro, who had until 
then said nothing : 

“ Are you ? ” 

Buck and Jeff laughed at the idea, and even Cole- 
man smiled grimly. 

“ La, Mr. Barker, Si ain’t got sense enough to lead a 
horse to water, much less lead a gang of men.” 

Durieux was troubled. He wondered if he had not 
made a mistake in concealing the fact that there was 
another man hidden somewhere* in the cotton house. 
He dismounted, and handing the bridle to Wheeler, 
he went behind Buck, and while he ostensibly tied his 
hands more securely, he whispered : 


295 


“ Who was the other man in the cotton house ? ” 

Buck started. “ Lord, boss, how did you know there 
was another one ? ” 

“ Don’t you know that you have two hats on your 
head? I couldn’t hide it any other way while they 
were watching me, and I didn’t want any more niggers 
lynched than I could help.” 

“ He ain’t nobody in perticular, sir, — just a fellow 
like Si, who joined the gang becaze he didn’t know no 
difference.” 

Durieux could not linger longer without attracting 
attention. He went back, and stood leaning against 
his horse. 

The hot-heads were clamorous. “We must have the 
leader,” they cried. 

“ Yes,” Barker acquiesced, with equal determination, 
“ we must have the leader, if we have to hang every 
nigger in north Louisiana to get him ! ” 

Barker’s words were met with a shout of applause 
that made the woods echo. 

“ Make yourselves easy, gent’ men, you is got the 
leader.” 

Barker stared at Buck Williams angrily. “ What do 
you mean ?” he thundered, aggravated by the darkey’s 
calmness. “ Have you not each denied it ? ” 

“ Is you asked Burrill Coleman who is the leader?” 
asked Buck, stolidly. 

“ Burrill Coleman ! ” exclaimed Wheeler and Durieux 
in a breath. “ Why, man — ” 

“ Burrill Coleman, are you the leader ? ” 

“ No, Mr. Barker, I am not! ” 

“ Burrill, you lie ! ” shouted Buck, in a fury. 

Coleman turned his cold, glittering eyes upon his 
accuser again. “ I do not lie. I am not the leader.” 

“Hoo!” muttered Williams; “I see. What you is 
and what you was is different, I reckon.” 


296 


Coleman was silent. His finely proportioned figure, 
with every nerve on duty to support it against the ter- 
rible doom that awaited it, looked almost noble in the 
dusky moonlight. His intelligent countenance was 
calm and tranquil, though there was a look of weari- 
ness about his expressive eyes. 

Buck’s sneer was not lost upon the crowd. “ Make 
Buck Williams tell what he knows,” a voice said, above 
the murmur of interest. 

Barker acted upon the suggestion. “ Was Burrill 
Coleman leader of the Pelican rebellion ? ” 

“ Mr. Barker,” Buck began, slowly. He paused, and 
when he spoke again there was a tremor in his voice. 
“I know my time is come, and they ain’t no use of me 
to lie just before goin’ to the judgment seat of God.” 
He tried to clear his voice, and went on : “ It ain’t fair 
to give another man away, an’ I wouldn’t do it ef it 
wasn’t to save some other po’ fool nigger from goin’ to 
the devil with a rope ’round his neck. We’s been ter- 
ribly fooled by one nigger, who come along an’ ’swaded 
us we could boss the white men. The man what was 
leadin’ us done so many smart things, an’ kept hisself 
so clear of ’spicion, we got to believe he could do any- 
thing he set to do. It ’peared mighty wonderful to us, 
how he could set down in his cabin an’ work the wires 
to go his way over in Mississippi as easy as here in 
Willowburne. May be, ef we had a’talked to him about 
it first, we never would a’ been here now. He kept 
a’tellin’ us to never do nothin’ without askin’ him 
about it first.” 

The silence was so profound when Buck stopped 
speaking that the men scarcely seemed to be breathing. 
At last Mr. Barrett found his voice. 

“ Do you mean to say,” he questioned, “ that Burrill 
Coleman was your leader, and that he planned the 
atrocious crimes that have made our country horrible 
within the past year ? ” 


297 


“Yes, sir; all but killin’ Mr. Northcot. He never 
worked that, an’ that’s why we’s here tonight. ’Twas 
the man what Mr. Alvah beat — po’ Dick, who was hung 
at the court-house — what run that piece of business.” 

“ Then we have the leader ? ” blurted out Barker, 
finding his speech. 

“ Yes, sir. You don’t need to look no further. When 
you git Burrill, you got the brains an’ the right hand 
of the whole thing.” He shivered. “ After Burrill 
Coleman’s swung out of this world, there won’t be none 
to take his place.” 

Mr. Barrett sat upon his horse like one stunned. 
Barker swore in his amazement, and every one else 
seemed dumbfounded. Barker turned to the other two 
negroes : 

“ Boys, is Buck telling the truth ? ” 

“ Yes, sir, he’s tellin’ the truth ! ” 

Durieux passed his hand across his forehead. “ Good 
God ! ” he' groaned. 

Burrill looked at him keenly, and his head sank 
upon his breast. He had been standing like a granite 
statue while Buck was talking. After a while he lifted 
his head and spoke : 

“ He says ‘ when Burrill Coleman’s gone, there’ll be 
none to take his place ; the brain and right hand will 
be gone’.” Burrill spoke slowly, meditatively, as 
though even in his extremity the praise was balm to 
his ambition. He glanced around and saw that some 
men were preparing to put a rope around his neck. 
He started back. 

“Wait!” he cried, imperiously. “I ain’t ready to 
go yet — there’s something on my mind; ’taint much, 
but I want to tell it anyhow. Its bothered me more 
than all the other things, somehow. Where is Dr. 
Allison? He ain’t here? Well, it don’t make no 
difference. A heap of you all believes till yet that 


298 


Dr. Allison killed Mr. Sid and Mr. Vincent, but he 
never did. Dr. Allison’s as good a man as ever lived. 
He set by Ella day and night and tried his best to save 
her life for me, like I begged him. I paid him for 
stayin’-^paid him honest money what I had worked 
for, — but I couldn’t pay him for his goodness to her.” 
He paused. “I never committed but one murder, and 
I never got over that. I told the others how, and they 
never seemed to mind it. I shot Mr. Carroll. Me and 
Buck went there — just us two, ’cause we knew there 
was a big lot of money there. We fired, and Mr. Sid 
fell and Mr. Vincent ran into his room. We knew 
there was a gun in there, and we thought he would 
have the drop on us. A hand-car was cornin’, and we 
thought it was goin’ to stop, but it went on through. 
I saw Dr. Allison get on his horse and ride off, and I 
knew he would be out of our way.” 

Burrill Coleman was not prepared for the effect his 
confession would have upon the friends of Carroll and 
Minor who were of the mob that night. 

Mr. Barrett, Durieux, Wheeler, and Hays saw that 
they were as powerless before that body of determined 
men as so many straws upon the bosom of the mighty 
river. They turned and rode silently away, each ob- 
livious to the other’s presence. 

Next morning, when the sun shone* upon the tree 
nearest where Alvah Northcot’s body was found, its 
rays fell full across three ghastly objects swinging from 
its sinless branches. 


CHAPTER XXIX. 


Durieux and Mr. Barrett rode side by side for some 
time, each so buried in thought that neither was aware 
who his companion was. There was a group of men 
ahead of them, riding silently away from the tragedy 
they had been unable to avert. 

When the road along the base of the river was 
reached, the horses turned to the right, toward Sigma, 
and Durieux pulled his reins up suddenly and aroused 
himself from his reverie. Mr. Barrett looked up as the 
other came to an abrupt stop. 

“ Ah, Jules, won’t you come on with me ? ” 

Durieux replied : “ No, thank you, Mr. Barrett, I 

can’t go on to Sigma. Mr. Barrett — would it be asking 
too much of you to come back to the place with me ? 
There is something I particularly wish to talk to you 
about. I — Don’t you think you could come ? ” 

Mr. Barrett looked at his watch, and hesitated when 
he saw how late it was ; then he looked at Jules again, 
and responding to the earnest insistence so legible in 
his manner, he turned his horse’s head toward the En- 
glehart store, and together, by a different route from 
the one they had just passed over, they returned to 
the center of the place. 

When they reached his room, Durieux rebuilt his 
fire, for it had grown cool, and the horror of the night’s 
events had chilled him drearily. 

As soon as the wood blazed brightly in the wide fire- 
place, Jules sank into a chair, and for a little while his 
head rested back and his hands hung listlessly by his 
side. 

Mr. Barrett bent forward and stretched his hands 
299 


300 


toward the merry, chattering flames, and Durieux 
pulled himself together. 

There was a small round table between the two men, 
littered with magazines, and illuminated by the lamp 
that burned brightly upon it. 

Durieux leaned an arm upon the table, and Mr. Bar- 
rett faced him. 

Mr. Barrett,” he began, “ you heard what Burrill 
said concerning the murder of Carroll and Minor.” 

Yes.” 

Durieux cleared his husky voice and went on : “I 
am glad that he confessed. I am glad that all doubt 
of Dr. Allison’s honor is at last cleared away. Are not 
you ? ” 

“Yes, Jules; but still — ” 

“Well?” said Durieux, petulantly. 

“ My boy, why didn’t Dr. Allison — ” he hesitated 
again. 

“ Dr. Allison didn’t simply because he couldn’t. 
Mr. Barrett, if Edward Allison had told where he was 
that night, you would have blown his brains out.” 

“I? Jules, are you mad? Why should I have 
desired to do such a thing? I heard what the peddler 
woman said ; she swore that Allison had gone to see a 
woman in a cabin on the back part of Lilyditch.” 

“Yes. He went to see a woman in a cabin on Lily- 
ditch, and the woman — ” Durieux stopped abruptly. 

“The woman — ” repeated his companion. 

“Was Nellie Barrett.” 

“ Good God ! what do you mean ? ” Mr. Barrett 
bounded to his feet, and stood staring at the man 
before him like one dazed. Durieux returned his gaze 
firmly. 

“ I mean, Mr. Barrett, that Edward Allison had too 
much honor to use the name of the woman he loves to 
shield himself from death or disgrace.” 


301 


Mr. Barrett sank into his chair again, and covered 
his face with his hands. “ Merciful God ! ” he groaned ; 
“ why have I lived to see this day ? ” 

Durieux sat silently watching him. What did it 
matter if one more heart was crushed and bleeding? 

Mr. Barrett lifted his head and demanded fiercely : 
“Durieux, how many people know of this?” 

“ The two lovers, the Syrian, Allen, and I.” 

Mr. Barrett moaned : “ If the negroes know of it, 

there is no hope of secrecy.” Mr. Barrett avoided 
meeting Durieux’ eyes. “ How did you find this out, 
Jules?” 

“ From Miss Nellie herself.” 

“ What! did she have the assurance to tell you that 
she was in the habit of meeting her lover in a deserted 
negro cabin ? ” 

Durieux s’wore inwardly. “ No, she did not,” he 
answered, tartly. 

Mr. Barrett looked at him in surprise. “ Did not 
you tell me — ” 

“ I did not tell you that she was ‘ in the habit ’ of 
doing anything,” Durieux flashed angrily. Again a 
slight breath against a woman’s honor was raising a 
whirlwind of suspicion. 

Mr. Barrett looked vexed, and Jules went on more 
calmly : 

“I told 3 mu, sir, that Miss Nellie told me that on the 
night of December 27th, at the hours between twelve 
and half past three, she was in the cabin with Dr. Al- 
lison. She sent for him, and he came at her request. 
You had made him pledge not to seek her, and so she 
sought him to tell him that she was going away.” 

“ And she told you this, when she would not tell it 
to me ? ” 

“She was not afraid of me. She was starving for 
sympathy — for some one to blame her and know the 


20 


302 


part she had in her lover’s embarrassment. You know, 
sir, that Miss Nellie and I have been together a great 
deal. Ever since she was a child, in fact, and we are,” he 
added, stroking bis handsome mustache to conceal the 
bitter curves his lips shaped themselves into, “ we are, 
you know, quite like ‘sisters’.” 

The older man was too deeply engrossed in his own 
pain to notice another’s sarcasm. He rested his tired 
head upon his hand thoughtfully. 

‘Mules, if the child wanted to see the fellow that 
badly, why in the name of heaven didn’t she come to 
me?” he said, irritably. “Have I ever denied my 
children anything that money or trouble could pro- 
cure ? ” 

The young man shrugged his shoulders character- 
istically, and smiled under cover of repairing the fire. 
Mr. Barrett took a cigar from his pocket, and began to 
smoke violently. After a protracted silence, Durieux 
spoke with effort : 

“Now that Dr. Allison is fully reinstated in public 
opinion,” he began, stiffly, “ you will, I trust, waive all 
objection to his offering his love to Miss Nellie.” 

“No, sir, I will not!” Mr. Barrett brought his fist 
down upon the table vehemently. “ My objections to 
Dr. Allison did not arise from his trouble at Lauren’s 
Station, but were based upon aversions established 
prior to that most unfortunate occurrence.” 

“ Poor little girl,” murmured Durieux, half to him- 
self. He sighed heavily. “ Well,” he went on, sadly, 
“ it matters little, I suppose. She is clearly not long for 
this world of wickedness and woe.” 

Mr. Barrett’s elbow rested upon the arm of his chair, 
and his eyes were covered by his hand. He was silent 
for a long time. The little clock on the mantelpit ce 
struck two, vindictively, and he started. Drawing his 
handkerchief from his pocket, he blew his nose care- 
fully, repeatedly, and Durieux, watching him with that 


303 


same half-sardonic smile, waited for him to speak. 

‘‘ Jules, has Allison returned from his visit to his 
mother ? ” 

‘‘ I believe he has. I think some one said he got 
back some weeks ago.” 

Mr. Barrett arose and pushed his chair back. “Jules, 
I will think of what you say. Perhaps I may eventu- 
ally overcome my dislike for him. You can not im- 
agine what a disappointment Nellie’s infatuation for 
this handsome nobody is to me.” Mr. Barrett sighed 
heavily. “I had thought, Jules, that some day you 
would ask me for my little girl. There is no one to 
whom I would so willingly give her as to you.” 

Durieux staggered. That Mr. Barrett liked him, 
trusted him, he knew ; but that he would have given 
Nellie to him — to a penniless drudge who worked for 
a salary on a retired plantation — he had never for a 
moment imagined. To him, who had hidden his love 
for the daughter because he was too proud to encounter 
the father’s scorn. Cruel, jeering fate, that came to tell 
him what he had lost ! 

Durieux stood staring at the floor, his face averted, 
his hands clinched behind him. Mr. Barrett tried to 
laugh reassuringly, and n^^rvously held out his hand. 

“ Well, well, my boy, do not feel remorse because 
you have failed me in the one thing I most wanted 
you to do. Hearts must be perverse, I suppose, as long 
as the world lasts, and we will have to bow our necks 
to the yoke of the inevitable. I will think — I will 
take your advice and try to make your two young 
friends happy. Nellie shall never have to run off from 
home again to see her lovers. I shall write to Allison 
and tell him that he may at least come to see her in 
her own home.” 

Durieux clasped his friend’s hand as cordially as it 
was extended. He had gained his object, and his pale, 
drawn lips worded his thanks. 


CHAPTER XXX. 


Mr. Barrett kept his word. He wrote to Dr. Allison, 
and that overjoyed young man lost no time in reply- 
ing to the letter in person. He found Mr. Barrett 
alone in his office, and there followed a long interview, 
consisting of questioning and explanations. 

Dr. Allison was a happy man indeed. The burden 
of doubt being lifted from his character, brought him 
a peace he had not known for months ; and this relief, 
added to the friendly attitude of the man who had so 
much power to make or mar his bliss, made his spirits 
seem winged and freed from all earthly bondage. 

Fortune seemed suddenly to have only smiles for 
him. The acme of his professional ambition had also 
been gained. An old friend of his father’s, a physician 
possessed of no small share of fame, had offered to take 
him into partnership, as a token of appreciation of the 
old-time friendship of the father’s, and the young 
man’s intrinsic merits. This prospect seemed partic- 
ularly glowing, now that there was a chance of winning 
Nellie Barrett to share success with him. He would 
no longer be separated from his mother and sisters ; 
no longer compelled to work his way from the very 
bottom of his profession, but aided in locating himself 
half-way up, mounting the remainder by his own en- 
deavor, seemed to add new zest to the gifts the goddess 
graciously bestowed. 

He had come back from his old home with the ' 
determination to terminate his engagement as planta- 
tion physician as soon as Col. Laurens could find a 
man to take his place, and then he would return to his 
native town to begin life all over again, as it were. 

304 


305 


Little did he expect, when he again set foot on 
Lauren’s dark soil, that a few days more would result 
clearing his name of suspicion, and his heart of its 
weight of denied love. 

Almost three months had elapsed since he had seen 
the girl of his truest, fondest affection ; and when Mr. 
Barrett suggested that they would go to Nellie and tell 
her that he had withdrawn his objections to an en- 
gagement, the invitation was eagerly accepted. 

Nellie’s surprise at her father’s generosity was only 
exceeded by her happiness. She was anxious that Mr. 
Barrett should know how entirely free from blame her 
lover was throughout the terrible trial that had so 
nearly wrecked his life, and volunteered to confess her 
midnight escapade; but Mr. Barrett laughingly waved 
her off, and told her that he knew all. 

“Father,” she cried, “how did you hear? Dr. Alli- 
son, did you tell? ” 

Allison shook his head. 

The girl blushed hotly, and turned again to her 

■Po “f pY' 

“ Did Mr. Durieux — ” 

Mr. Barrett laughed again, and nodded, and Nellie’s 
cheeks grew suddenly pale. 

There was to be no announcement of the engage- 
ment for several months, and it was understood that 
Dr. Allison was to return in the spring-time that was 
one year hence to take away his bride. 

The two or three weeks remaining of Dr. Allison’s 
stay at Lauren’s passed like a summer dream. He 
came almost daily to visit his betrothed; and Nellie, 
radiant with the intoxicating tonic of hope and happi- 
ness, regained her spirit, her rosy cheeks, her sparkling 
eyes, and her graceful vivacity. 

Jules Durieux was too busy to visit much. Plant- 
ing was well under way, and he was kept closely fol- 


306 


lowing his plow hands. He had never been so hard 
worked before that he could not spend an evening or 
a Sunday at the Barrett’s; but somehow people took 
Durieux’ word in this, as they did in other things, and 
he was not unnecessarily questioned. 

The one time that he did call before Dr. Allison left 
the parish, he was as gay and entertaining as of old, 
and no one guessed how leaden his heart lay or how 
hatefully conspicuous one tiny object, the glittering 
ring upon Nellie’s finger, was to his weary eyes. 

Dr. Allison went to his new work buoyed with all 
that goes toward a man’s vrorldly bliss. Success and 
love were his ; what more was there to crave ? 

With the coming of the summer months and respite 
from the more active part of the planter’s life, a calm 
in his affairs that preceded the vigorous sway of king 
Cotton, social functions thrust themselves into promin- 
ence once more and became the delight of the youth 
and maidens. There had been no large entertainment 
with its banquet and band of good music since the 
tournament, and the young folks looked upon Dr. Al- 
lison’s visit in August as an excellent excuse for an- 
other great affair, to take place in the town hall at 
Sigma. 

There had been minor social gatherings at intervals 
all along, presided over by the country fiddler or per- 
haps two young darkies with lusty lungs and French 
harps, but these, although enjoyed in a measure, were 
rather a hollow mockery to any but the youngest mem- 
bers of the little social world. 

Mr. Durieux had attended none of these parties and 
had remained closely at Englehart from the time when 
Mr. Barrett told him confidentially and with compara- 
tive cheerfulness of the arrangements for Nellie’s mar- 
riage to Dr. Allison the following year. The few times 
he went to the house, his visits were short and he oc- 


307 

cupied himself mostly in discussing business affairs 
with Mr. Barrett. 

Nellie was forced to acknowledge to herself how sorely 
she missed the pleasant intercourse that he was deny- 
ing her, and her injured feelings arose in rebellion 
against his conspicuous indifference toward her. She 
would rather he came and teased her or scolded her, 
than that he should ignore her so poignantly. 

She regretted the ab^sence of her lover daily, and told 
herself that she would not be so lonely and aimless if 
he were near enough to visit her and relieve by his 
presence the monotony of country existence. Gentle- 
men friends came to the house as formerly, but in com- 
parison with the pleasure of Dr. Allison’s society their 
calls seemed insipid and profitless. At first she took 
her long rides alone, but as the days grew warmer and 
longer she abandoned them altogether and found her 
only recourse in the daily letter to and from her affi- 
anced ; and some days she remorsefully detected an in- 
creasing aversion to writing, too. 

At last he came, however, her handsome, brilliant 
lover, and all nature took on a brighter, merrier color- 
ing. He was Mr. Barrett’s guest, and the August days 
with their lingering twilights seemed susceptible of 
improvement by the addition of more hours in which 
to exchange the precious nothingness of love’s com- 
munion. 

The subject of the ball was broached, and like a 
golden ball started down hill, its course was sped until 
the goal was reached. 

Nellie and Dr. Allison were a little late in arriving 
upon the festive scene, and almost every one was there 
before them. Wheeler was leaning lazily against the 
door as she entered the ball-room, and Nellie’s quick 
perception soon made her conscious of who was and 
who was not there. 


308 


She bit her lip proudly and fought against the disap- 
pointment she was forced to acknowledge. That Dur- 
ieux would attend the ball she had not for a moment 
doubted. It was aggravating, hateful of him, she in- 
wardly declared, to stay away when he knew that he 
was the best waltzer in the parish, and that she had 
often told him how much she preferred him as a part- 
ner to all others. 

The evening was half spent and she had at last re- 
linquished all hope that he had been detained or would 
reconsider and come anyway. She was waltzing with 
Wheeler, and after a silence she had unconsciously 
maintained despite his efforts to the contrary, she said, 
with exaggerated indifference : 

“ Mr. Durieux did not come, did he ? ” 

‘‘No’m.” 

“I wonder why?” Nellie pulled herself together 
angrily. The very words she had vowed not to utter 
had escaped her in spite of her rigid resolve. 

“Oh,” said Wheeler, “Jules says he’s getting too old 
for such frivolities as balls.” He watched beneath his 
eyelashes and saw the girl’s bare neck grow pinker. He 
had been laboring under some impressions of his own 
for some time — ever since the tournament, in fact. He 
did not really know anything, for no one had told him 
of Nellie’s engagement to Allison, and Jules had tried 
to keep his own affairs to himself; but he had been 
gradually piecing bits of information together until 
his ( ollection almost formed a complete fabric. He, 
like Dr. Allison, had the greatest respect and admira- 
tion for Nfdlie, and almost adored Durieux, so it is not 
much wonder that he viewed this complication of 
heartstrings from his owm point of vantage and almost 
allowed an exclamation of victory to escape him when 
a certain conclusion was thrust up.)n him He awaited 
conviction, and Nellie said: 


309 


“ I don’t see why he should say that.” 

“ Who — say what ? ” demanded Wheeler blankly. 

“Why, Mr, Durieux. You said he said he was too 
old to dance. That’s nonsense ! ” she said, irritably. 

“ Well, really,” began Wheeler, indolently, “perhaps 
that’s so; but Jules is so taken up with his studies I 
believe he doesn’t care a snap for anything else.” He 
turned quickly to keep his partner from being bumped 
by a wild dancer who was rushing towards them, and 
Nellie almost lost step. She quickly regained time, 
and asked : 

“ What is he studying ? ” 

“Who? Oh, Jules? Well, when I left, he was in- 
terviewing Mr. Prescott. I think he wants to read up 
on the history of the country before he goes. He’s 
been freshening his knowledge of the language, too. 
You know Jules is a natural linguist, and added con- 
siderable Spanish to his repertoire while he was in New 
Orleans.” Again Wheeler guided quickly to one side 
to avoid a collision in the crowd. 

“ Where is he going?” 

“Who?” 

“ Why, Mr. Durieux ! ” said Nellie, vexed with 
Wheeler’s stupidity. 

“Oh, why, didn’t Jules tell you that he was going 
to Mexico soon ? ” Wheeler’s surprise was a little over- 
done, but it was not detected. “ He has a friend there 
in some government position, who wants Jules to join 
him — quite a remunerative office, I believe, — and Jules 
has about decided to accept.” 

The band stopped abruptly, and Wheeler offering 
his arm to Nellie, they began to promenade. 

“ When is he going ? ” 

“ Who ? ” repeated Wheeler, and the girl could 
scarcely repress the inclination to turn and shake him 
angrily. 


310 


“ Who have we been talking about ? ” she demanded 
severely, her cheeks flushed. 

“ Let me see,” mused he, stroking his mustache on 
the side nearest Nellie, as his shoulders shook with 
suppressed amusement ; “ was it Durieux ? ” 

“ Never mind who it was,” she said, tartly. Dr. Alli- 
son came up, and, taking his arm, she deserted Wheeler 
without apologies; and he, figurative tossing up his 
hat with a war-whoop, followed them meekly out upon 
the gallery, and spent a few moments in surveying his 
structure of circumstantial evidence and adding a 
block or two more that strengthened the foundation 
and finished off certain parts. 

The lovers walked the length of the gallery several 
times, and Dr. Allison tried to converse, but Nellie was 
preoccupied and scarcely heard what he said. The 
young man felt wounded by her abstraction while with 
him, and asked her if she was tired. 

“Yes, I am,” she said, “just as tired as I can be. I 
wish it was time to go home. Let us sit down.” 

They found chairs near the banister, but still Nellie 
did not seem disposed to talk. The band began a 
brilliant polka, and Dr. Allison arose gallantly : “ This 
is our set, isn’t it ? ” 

He expected her to arise, but she still retained her 
seat and said plaintively : “ Please let us not dance — I 
feel too tired.” 

“Certainly; just as you wish,” Allison said kindly, 
and, willing to humor her mood, he maintained silence. 

“ Let us go in,” Nellie said, somewhat fretfully, after 
a long pause ; “ it’s too cool out here.” 

They went back into the ball-room, and Nellie 
secured a seat by her mother ; but there was no other 
near, so Allison left her and went to a doorway, where 
he leaned against the casement, watching the throng 
promenading before him and wondering, somewhat 


311 


provoked, at Nellie’s indifference to everything. She 
had looked forward to the ball with such high spirits 
and eager anticipation that he was puzzled to see now 
how inert she had become. 

He was still looking at her as the band began play- 
ing a languorous waltz. He watched Wheeler go up 
to Nellie and bend over her. The girl’s eyes seemed to 
brighten, and she looked up and smiled gaily. She 
got up, and Wheeler slipping his arm about her, they 
floated across the floor. 

Dr. Allison saw it all — Nellie’s awakened interest 
and the alacrity with which she accepted Wheeler’s 
invitation to dance. 

“The third time with him tonight, and only once 
with me ! ” 

Dr. Allison walked out on the gallery in no enviable 
frame of mind. 


CHAPTER XXXI. 


Three weeks more glided into oblivion. Dr. Alli- 
son’s visit terminated, and the ball in his honor was 
slowly being forgotten ; but still Mr. Durieux did not 
go to see Nellie, nor did she hear anything more of his 
purposed departure. She was resolute in not allowing 
herself to ask any questions about him, and no one 
volunteered to tell her of him. 

One morning Durieux rode in from Englehart to 
consult Mr. Barrett about a new piece of machinery 
for the gin, and great was his annoyance to find that 
that gentleman not only was not at his office, but was 
at home suffering from a slight bilious attack. 

“ This is most unfortunate,” he muttered. “ The gin 
ought to be running now, and it is urgent that the 
order for this thing should get off in today’s mail.” 

“ Well, go on and see Barrett about it then,” Mr. 
Henderson said, surprised that Jules had not already 
done so, in stopping at the store to lament the senior 
partner’s absence. 

Durieux hesitated. “ Oh, I hate to disturb a sick 
man with such petty worries,” he evaded. 

“ Go on and see him, I say ; he is not too sick to 
talk to you. I was there to see him myself this morn- 
ing, and he told me he was only staying at home to 
please his wife. Go on. There is no use delaying 
when it is so important to get the ginning under way.” 

Thus urged, there was no help for it, and Durieux 
reluctantly betook him to Mr. Barrett’s handsome 
home. 

He was dismounted and at the steps before he dis- 
covered that Nellie was sweeping the gallery, and both 
312 


313 


taken by surprise, an awkward greeting resulted. Nel- 
lie showed him the way to her father’s room, and 
returned to her work. Lillie, too, was sick, and this 
increased the young lady’s household duties. A darkey 
had been called in from the cotton picking to take 
Lillie’s place over the stove ; and Nellie had been won- 
dering all morning which was the lesser work, to 
initiate an ignoramus, or do the work one’s self. Mrs. 
Barrett declared decidedly in favor of the latter, and 
Nellie was being won to her opinion. 

When Durieux came out of the house, a half hour 
later, he found Nellie sitting on the children’s jostling- 
board in the shiUde of an old magnolia tree that grew 
near the steps. She had taken off her check-work 
apron, and her sun-bonnet was pushed back from her 
face. As Durieux neared her he lifted his hat, and 
would have passed on, but she smiled, and said to him 
in his sweet, seductive mother-tongue : 

“ Don’t be in a hurry. Sit down ; I want to talk to 
you.” 

He silently obeyed her, taking a seat on the farther 
end of the board. 

“This is an exquisite day, isn’t it?” the girl said, 
by way of showing him that she wanted to talk. 

“Yes.” Durieux used the crisp English w'ord, and 
sat bent forward, one arm resting on his knee, staring 
at the short grass which he cut at monotonously with 
his riding-whip. 

Nellie laughed nervously. “ I thought I had some- 
thing to say to you,” she said, indifferently, “ but it 
seems I haven’t.” 

Durieux arose to his feet. “ I’d better go, then ; I’m 
in something of a hurry this morning.” 

He started down the long walk that led through the 
lawn to the front gate, and the girl arose and followed 
at his side. They reached the gate, and he extended 
his hand to open it. 


314 


Mr. Durieux,” began Nellie, swinging her bonnet 
by each side close to her face, you haven’t been a 
very good sister to me lately.” 

Jules started. 

“ Nor a friend, either,” she persisted. 

“ I know it,” the man said, testily. “ I told you an 
untruth when I said I was your friend. I did not 
mean to deceive you, nor myself either. I have tried 
to be, but it is impossible.” 

His voice dropped so low . she could scarcely hear 
what he said, and there was the quaver in it that she 
had heard once before. “ I have tried to be a friend to 
you and failed.” His tones strengthened, and he went 
on vehemently : “ I don’t want to be your friend. 

I don’t want you to be happy — I lied when I said I 
did! I am simply your lover, and I will never be 
anything else.” 

Nellie was leaning against the gate, her hand upon 
the top, unconscious that she was keeping him in. He 
stood moodily before her, his arms folded and his eyes 
bent upon the ground. He went on speaking, after a 
pause : 

“ It is folly to suppose that a man can be two things 
to a woman at once,” he said, decisively. 

Nellie looked at him quickly, and a little half-smile 
played in her eyes. 

“Is a man never two things to a woman at once?” 
she queried softly. “ When he becomes a husband, 
does he cease to be a lover ? ” 

Durieux muttered a short exclamation. “ I suppose 
Dr. Allison may be able to occupy both positions at 
once,” he said, without raising his eyes. There was a 
long pause, and he twisted and bit his mustache un- 
mercifully. With an effort, he roused himself and 
lifted his hat. 

“ Miss Nellie, I must trouble you to let me pass. 
There is business I must attend to.” 


315 


The girl flushed indignantly, and with her hand still 
upon the gate, she said with defiance : 

“ Before you go, I want to tell you that the engage- 
ment which your interference in family affairs resulted 
in arranging has ended disastrously, and that Dr. Alli- 
son has taken my pretty ring away from me.” 

Durieux started violently and stared at the girl, 
amazed. She threw the gate wide open and turning, 
walked rapidly toward the house. He called to her 
twice but she would not stop. She was determined 
that he should not see her tears. 

Jules stood like one dreaming and watched her until 
she was lost sight of in the depths of the hall ; then he 
sprang upon his horse and galloped away. 

That afternoon he came again. He brought his 
buggy and Nellie went with him for a long drive. 

When they returned Mr. Barrett was sitting on the 
front gallery. Durieux walked up to him and said : 

“Congratulate me, Mr. Barrett. I’m the happiest 
man on earth. I’m to be married soon.” 

Mr. Barrett stared. “Eh, Jules? Why I’m glad to 
hear of it. I did not suspect that you had any such 
ideas — ” He turned to look at his daughter to see 
what she thought of the surprising news, but Nellie 
had flown into the house. 

THE END. 


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